


Spring is the Season of Hope

by LizzieLovesWriting



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-03-05 21:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18837253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieLovesWriting/pseuds/LizzieLovesWriting
Summary: Brienne has had her heart broken, Jaime is in the darkest place he has ever been, Tyrion is grieving, and King's Landing is burnt to ash... but where there is despair there is hope.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Plain and simple it's a fix-it fic starting from the end of Ep4 (8)... cause non of us are happy that Jaime's arc has been changed beyond recognition.... warning, I am keeping it currently canon with the show, so spoilers up to end of Ep5. There will be more chapters, not sure how many!

She could still smell him in her room; it had been three days since he had left and she could still smell him in her fucking room. Brienne stood, her back to her bedroom door, her gaze resting on the bed, their bed. All of her felt numb, all except for the intense anxious pain that had taken residence in her chest three days ago, a pain that only eased when she would finally fall asleep at night for a few meagre hours. She had thought that she understood grief when Renly had died, but with Renly she had already grieved what wasn’t there when he was alive; she had known Renly’s preferences, and understood that he could no more _be_ with her than he could _be_ with Margery. And so she had loved the Baratheon King she had served the only way she knew how, with dedication and honour and pride, values that did not help her to save him from his depraved brother. It was Catelyn Stark who had pulled her from her anguish and saved her, sheltered her, given her purpose again. A purpose she still held close to her heart that very day, but a purpose that had brought Jaime into her life, a purpose that was now tearing her apart, sending her insane.

 

_The morning after Jaime had left Brienne had woken in her room on the bearskin rug in front of the fire. She had somehow managed an hour or so of sleep on the hard stone of the floor - to sleep on their bed would have been to much. What he had said had rolled over and over and over in her thoughts, like a pebble from one of the beaches on the Tarth tumbled in the tidal swell until it was smoother than glass. This polishing of his words made her see clearer what he had meant - “She is hateful and so am I, she is hateful and so am I, she is hateful and so am I.” He despised himself, and Cersei’s talons ran deeper than even Brienne and Tyrion had realised, and Jaime could not see himself the way Brienne and Tyrion did. This had hurt her more than anything. And three days later it still made her eyes sting whenever she thought about what anguish he must be feeling. Just as she felt torn between her oath to house Stark and her desire to tear after Jaime and stop his suicide mission, so his torment of choice must have finally broken any thread of sanity he had left._

 

Brienne pushed herself off the door and grabbed her coat, pulling it snug around her shoulders she purposefully kept her eyes from her armour, the beautiful armour Jaime had had made for her. Oathkeeper stood undisturbed by the fire, where it had sat for three days, and on the table sat two plates and goblets, some stale bread on Jaime’s, untouched since they had drunk and eaten the night he left. Her hands shook slightly as she grasped the handle of the door and pulled it open. She settled her face into it’s usual nondescript frown and made her way to the great hall for breakfast.

 

\--

 

Sansa was quietly eating her breakfast, Bran sitting next to her, his plate barely touched. Brienne hesitated before approaching the table. Sansa looked up and smiled at her sworn sword. In the time Brienne had been with Sansa a bond had developed, not quite a friendship, but a care and love for each other that was based on absolute trust. A trust Brienne felt she had broken, she had promised Sansa, Jon, and Daenerys that Jaime was on their side, that he would stay with her in Winterfell, that they could trust him as they trusted her. Brienne couldn’t smile back at Sansa, she simply nodded her head and sat at the further end of the table.

 

“Ser Brienne? Are you okay?”

 

Brienne glanced at Sansa, “yes my Lady.”

 

Sansa knew that Brienne was not one for many words, she also knew that Brienne was hurting, was heartbroken. The day after Jaime Lannister had left Winterfell Sansa had offered to release Brienne from service to go after him. Brienne had refused. So Sansa had instead sent a bird south to let Jon know that Jaime was on his way. Sansa knew that no matter the relationship between her sworn sword and the Kingslayer, that Jaime Lannister needed to be stopped, and if Brienne wasn’t willing to do it, someone had to.

 

—

 

A week and a half later Brienne was out in the armoury with Pod, they were doing an inventory of the spears and shields that were left. Gendry stood beside them, some parchment in hand and a stick of charcoal, ready to note down numbers of what needed repairing and replacing. Pod had been surprised to know that Gendry could read and write.

 

“Well, only the basics, you know, I had to learn in the forge, numbers and such.”

 

Brienne looked up as she tossed three shields on the repair pile, “will you two stop twittering away like old gossipy women, Pod go through that pile of spears over there.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the far wall. Pod grinned at Gendry before nodding at Brienne and trotting off.

 

Gendry stepped closer to Brienne, “how many shields does that make for repair?”

 

Brienne stood to her full height and stretched her arms, cracked her neck slightly, and scrunched her shoulders to relieve the ache. Between helping to rebuild Winterfell and teaching the young boys from the local villages how to fight - immediately after the battle with Night King, Sansa had wanted to replenish their soldiers, and so she had tasked Brienne and Ser Jaime in training the young lads - and sobbing into her pillow for hours on end over night, her muscles ached like never before. She glanced at Gendry, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes, so similar to her own.

 

“I make that 55 for repair,” Brienne pointed to another pile. “That’s 120 beyond repair, and about 10 that are still usable.”

 

Gendry nodded as he jotted down the numbers. As he started to move away he stopped and turned to Brienne. Reaching out his hand he grasped her arm, “I wish we were going to Kings Landing. You deserve better.”

 

Brienne felt her throat tighten and her eyes wet. She pulled her arm away and frowned, “It’s not better I want, it’s not better you want either.”

 

Gendry shut his eyes and took a breath. “I.. it’s what we both got though… nothing.”

 

Brienne felt bad for snapping at the newly minted Lord of Storms End, technically he was her Liege Lord now, and she knew she had to start acting that way. Loyalty and doing the right thing, when had the world become so unbalanced, so fucked up; Brienne nodded her head. Footsteps made them both turn to see Sansa appear at the armoury door, in her hand was a note, her face grim.

“When can you all be packed and ready to leave?”

 

Brienne turned fully to her Lady, her stomach clenched, her eyes fixed on the scrap of paper, “what is it my Lady?”

 

Sansa looked down at the note and read, “Jaime Lannister was captured by Northern soldiers, the Queen is planning attack for tomorrow.”

 

Brienne let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, he was captured, he was not in King’s Landing, if Queen Daenerys was going to attack King’s Landing Jaime would not be in the city, he would be safe. Sansa stepped forward and squeezed her arm, catching Brienne’s eye, “he is safe for now, but after the battle it may be a different story, that Queen… they think only Cersei is mad… I have my doubts.”

 

Brienne nodded, her eyes filled with tears again, though she was determined not to let them show. He was still alive, and as long as he was alive there was hope. “When do we leave my Lady?”

 

“As soon as possible, pack light, it will only be a small number of us, we have to travel fast.”


	2. Chapter 2

The journey south was agonising for all. A small party traveling light, they were making good time, only resting for small periods before charging on; it was the not knowing what had or was happening that drove them faster and faster. Every few days they managed to change some of the horses in villages, the fresher ones charging ahead, whilst the others simply followed in the hopes they wouldn’t fall too far behind. By the time they reached the outskirts of King’s Landing there were not many left in their party, Sansa, Brienne, Pod, Gendry, and a few of Sansa’s newly minted riders. As they approached the long slow incline of the hills that bordered the capital Sansa gasped. The others looked sharply up, all drew their horses to a halt, shimmering just above the hill tops was smoke. Like dust drifting higher and higher, it appeared to be floating their way; it was then that they noticed the smell, a faint waft of charcoal and singed hair.

 

“We have to be careful from here on in,” Sansa glanced at Brienne. Brienne nodded before waving Pod over.

 

“Pod we will scout out ahead,” Brienne then turned to her Lady, “you stop here and make camp, until we know what has happened it is safer that you stay here, we won’t be long.” 

 

—

 

Brienne and Pod raced their horses up the incline, slowing to a trot as they approached the summit, eventually their horses stopped. Brienne bit her lip and withheld a moan. King’s Landing was on fire and looked like it had been on fire for quite a long time. Sections were just blackened gaps, buildings everywhere appeared collapsed, other parts were still well alight, flames leaping high into the air. On the plain that lead down to the western gate there were tents, hundreds of them, laid out haphazardly. Where there were no tents soldiers gathered together in tight packs looking at other soldiers dragging burnt corpses towards grave pits. Also amongst the mayhem Brienne could see Maesters attending men, women, and children who were badly injured.

 

“What the hell happened do you think?” Pod asked. Brienne glanced at him, his face was white and tinged green around the edges.

 

“War Pod,” Brienne breathed out. As she turned back to observe the devastation she noticed someone approaching them. Her hand instantly grabbed the hilt of Oathkeeper, ready to draw if need be, Pod did the same. They both only relaxed once they realised who it was.

 

“Well if it isn’t My Lady Brienne and fucking Podrick Payne, what the blazes are you doing here? I thought you were safe up in Winterfell protecting the little Stark princess.”

 

Bronn pulled his horse to a stop in front of them. Brienne frowned at him, “what happened?”

 

Bronn glanced behind him, “oh this?!? Well, let’s put it this way, we have no Queen anymore.”

 

Like a lock slipping open pain flooded Brienne’s chest, _Cersei was dead, what about Jaime,_ her mouth flapped open, but nothing came out. Pod glanced at Brienne before asking, “Queen Cersei is dead? Well, that’s good right?”

 

Bronn huffed a laugh, “listen to what I have to say dumbass, we have no Queen anymore, literally, no Queen, both the fuckers are dead.”

 

“What happened?” Pod’s eyes were as wide as a dinner plate - he had expected to hear that Cersei had died, but not the Targaryen Queen.

 

“Come down into the camp,” Bronn cocked his head behind him, “you both look like you need a drink, I know I need one, and besides, it’s probably best you hear from Tyrion what happened.”

 

Brienne finally came to her senses, “we have left Lady Sansa a little behind us, we’ll go get her and come into camp.”

 

— 

 

Bronn led the Winterfell party through the tents, injured, and dead. Sansa held the edge of her cloak to her nose, the smell was putrid, burnt and rotting skin hung off both corpses and the living. Brienne felt her chest getting tighter and tighter the closer to the west gate they got. In the distance she could see the partial remains of the Red Keep, feeling nauseous she averted her eyes, “how much further?”

 

Bronn glanced back as he stopped in front of one of the larger tents, “we’re here.”

 

They all dismounted and walked into the tent. Tyrion and Davos stood up and turned to the group. Davos hung back as Tyrion rushed forward and bowed to Sansa, “My Lady, I am glad to see that you are safe and well… perhaps, though, now was not the best time for a visit to King’s Landing.”

 

Sansa smiled grimly, “Lord Tyrion, we had to come, we knew at that last raven that the battle would most likely be over soon and we all have an invested interest in the result.”

 

Tyrion grimaced slightly, "ahhh but what if the war had gone my dear sister’s way? You would have been in danger coming to the city.”

 

“But she didn’t win, from what I can gather from your sell sword; what happened Lord Tyrion?”

 

Tyrion waved them to the other chairs around the central table as he walked to the side table that housed the wine. He poured himself a goblet and then turned to join them. Heaving himself up onto a chair, he cleared his throat and glanced at Brienne, “I sent a… messenger… to Cersei, to either get her to surrender or… flee. I gave instruction to ring the city bells if surrender was the choice, and ohhhh when I heard the bells toll I knew that the battle was over before it had even really begun.”

 

Sansa folded her hands on the table as Tyrion paused to sip his wine. Brienne felt curious at the feeling of numbness that was starting at her finger tips and toes. Tyrion had mentioned a messenger, to either get Cersei to surrender, or flee, deep down in her core Brienne knew who he meant, though she dare not believe it.

 

“Daenerys was riding Drogon, they…. I don’t know why… I,” Tyrion faltered. “She started to burn the city, she burnt it, the sounds of innocent screams, I could hear them, we could all hear them. It was when the Keep fell that it stopped, the Golden Company dead, the Lannister soldiers dead, so many innocents dead. She claimed she had liberated the city from a tyrant, but she… she was so angry. Jon, myself, a few others, she accused us of treason, she would’ve killed us, I know it, she would’ve come for you Lady Sansa, she would not have stopped, so I had to stop her. I convinced Jon to do what was right and he did.”

 

“She’s dead, she really is dead?” Sansa asked.

 

Tyrion sipped his wine again, “yes, and now we start the tidy up, we have so many injured, so many dead… I shouldn’t have brought her here.”

 

Sansa reached over and placed her hand on Tyrion’s, “you are a good man Tyrion, you did what you felt you had to do at the time.”

 

Brienne felt her heart stutter at Sansa’s words, so like what she had said to Jaime before he left Winterfell. The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop herself, “and Ser Jaime? What of he? Was he the messenger you sent?”

 

Tyrion’s face fell, a mask of grief lay over his features, “Ser Brienne, I’m sorry, yes, I freed him and instructed him to convince Cersei to surrender… I arranged for a dinghy to await them on a beach, he was to get her out and with Ser Davos’ help to make their way to Pentos.”

 

The feeling of numbness spread with each word that came from Tyrion’s mouth. Brienne felt that even if she wanted to move she couldn’t, her arms and legs felt too heavy, “… and… did they? Did they get to the dinghy?”

 

She didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer. If they had it meant that Jaime lived and that was what she wanted most, but it also meant that she still would never see him again, that he had well and truly chosen his sister as his destiny, and not her.

 

Tyrion’s eyes welled, “the dinghy was still there and there has been no sign of them in the injured or the dead that have been recovered. I know he is gone, there is no hope.”

 

Brienne felt Pod grab the fabric at her elbow, Sansa grabbed her hand and squeezed, and Brienne simply nodded; she felt nothing, she felt nothing.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much lovely people for the comments, this is becoming quite a journey of getting from point A to B to C, etc, all these little scenes I had in my head... the surprising thing for me is the budding friendship between Brienne and Gendry, that wasn't even in my mind, but these characters are starting to write themselves. So enjoy the next chapter... (please also note, this story is completely unbeta'd and coming from my own head canon crack)

Tyrion had arranged for a tent to be erected for the Northern party as close to the Narrow Sea as possible. He claimed the stench wasn’t as bad there and that the cooler salty air would be relief for them after their journey. Inside the tent shawls and cloaks had been hung to partition a private section for Lady Sansa, Brienne and Pod were to have the other half of the tent. Brienne dropped her saddle bags and blanket on the floor the furthest from the tent opening and sighed. Tyrion had said he would take them through the city the next day, show them first hand the devastation, at first Brienne had wanted to refuse the grisly tour, but the numbness that had been spreading up her limbs had now reached her heart, nothing could make her cry now, she was sure of it.

 

The sun was starting to set and the need to get away from the smells, sounds, and blood of the camp overcame her. Opening her saddle bags Brienne started digging for a change of clothes; she would go down to the beach near the tent and swim the journey grime from her skin and hair. She pulled the first piece of cloth she felt out of the saddlebag and stopped as she looked at what was in her hand. Thick strips of cotton, torn up from old shirts and bedding, strips used for her moon blood time. Staring at the strips of cloth she quickly counted back to the last time she bled. A low no escaped her lips as she fell forward, her moon blood was late, was late by at least a month. If she had felt panicked before it was nothing to the way her head spun and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Hands shaking she shoved the cloths back into the saddlebag. She tried to quell the panic. But the likelihood of a child had her mind spinning. She pressed her hands to her eyes to try and calm her mind, but like a spark of intense light, her mind flashed back to her and Jaime’s second night together -

 

_Her eyes closed, she felt Jaime’s hot breath on her neck, it prickled on her damp skin, his kiss followed soon after. She felt his lips as they travelled her body, down to her collarbone, to the hollow of the base of her neck, the valley between her small breasts, up to her left nipple, already hard, he licked it…_

 

A familiar surge of heat spread through her limbs, a heat she had only ever experienced with him, him in her bed, in the stables, in the armoury… She opened her eyes and stood quickly, the yearning for him tugged at her heart, and most especially now with the possible babe nestled in her womb. Pod’s hand on her shoulder made her jump, “are you alright Ser Brienne?”

 

“Y..yes, of course Pod, I’m just going to go for a swim.” Brienne turned and ran out of the tent and down to beach, it wasn’t until she started to strip to her small things that she realised she had forgotten her change of clothes.

 

—

Brienne barely slept, as she lay listening to Pod’s soft snores and the occasional sigh from Sansa, she lay her hand gently over her lower belly. A child, a bastard, one to be born from a love that had sparked like a flash of flame from tinder, only to die out as quickly. Or so that is what Brienne told herself. Deep in her heart though she knew she would always love Jaime Lannister, right up to her deathbed, and in some ways she hated herself for that, and despised him. She contemplated finding one of the Maester’s healing the broken and burnt for some moon tea - surely it was not to late for it. But even as the thought entered her head she knew she couldn’t do it. This child, no matter the current circumstances, was innocent. _Don’t lie to yourself Brienne,_ she thought as she shifted onto her back, _this is a part of Jaime you can have forever and you are never going to let it go, never._

 

Soft sounds started to drift into the tent, the clinging of metal as armour was put on, the soft murmur of voices, a faint sob drifted across the camp. Brienne could see a sliver of faint light appear between the gaps of the tent flaps, Pod coughed and rolled over; Brienne realised she needed some air, to be alone. She slipped out of under her cloak and pulled her jerkin on over her tunic. Slipping her boots on she glanced at Pod, he was snoring lightly again, but he would awaken soon enough. Quietly Brienne slipped out of the tent, skirted around the edge of the camp, and made her way to the beach where she sat. Running her fingers through the sand she glanced at the city. Her mind told her _Jaime’s in there somewhere_ , her heart refused to engage, those feelings of numbness that had invaded her body the day before were still there. She was in shock, she knew it, she had seen it enough in battle, if someone came and stabbed her with their sword she wouldn’t feel it; she could feel nothing.

 

“Brienne?”

 

Brienne jumped, so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice anyone approaching, she turned to see Gendry approach, his hands held up as though in surrender. She gave him a tight smile before turning back to the water. He plopped down beside her, “don’t mind if I join you?”

 

“Well I have no choice do I…” Brienne grimaced at her rudeness. She didn’t know Gendry that well, other than the work they had done together in the armoury after the long night, but she recognised his pain. Sansa had told her that he was in love with Arya, and whilst it may be a good match, Arya was no Lady waiting to be married off; Gendry would have to simply try and move on. _But one doesn’t simply move on from love_ , Brienne had thought then and now, Jaime had shown her what love truly was, not the light love of gratitude that she had felt for Renly, but a deeply rooted love that reflected a bond with another soul like no other. A bond that was built from respect and absolute trust, a bond that grew from really seeing and knowing the truth of another and still loving them anyway. Deep in thought Brienne had failed to notice Gendry had stood up, a scowl on his face, dusting sand from his hands. He politely nodded at her as he turned to leave.

 

“Gendry! I mean my Lord, please, I am sorry I was rude… I’m just not myself lately.”

 

Gendry stopped, his gaze softened, and he returned to his seat next to her, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, your…” He waved his hand around, indicating so much and yet nothing at all.

 

“I just needed some time to breathe, it is a lot to take in, all that has happened, all…”

 

Gendry reached over and took her hand in his and offered her a sympathetic smile, “I don’t know you that well my Lady, I mean Ser, Ser Brienne, but I want to get to know you better.”

 

Brienne’s eyebrows raised at this and she tried to gently pull her hand from his. Gendry’s face looked confused for a moment before he realised how his actions and words may have been interpreted, “oh no! No! Sorry, I just… as your new… Lord, I just want there to be a good friendship between us… I honestly have no idea what I am doing and I had thought that Arya… well, I want to be honest with you Ser Brienne and I honestly have no idea what I am doing!”

 

“You already said that,” Brienne felt for the first time since Jaime had left Winterfell a smile flicker across her face. In fact she also felt an urge to laugh bubble up and she only just managed to choke back a giggle. The first time Jaime had made her giggle the look of shock on his face had made her giggle more. This in turn had made Jaime start to laugh uproariously. It had taken them a good twenty minutes to finally calm down and once they had Jaime had said he felt as though they had just had the greatest fuck ever. This had made them both start laughing again. _Oh to feel that lightness again_.

 

“Are you going to come into the city today?”

 

The urge to giggle ceased immediately and Brienne felt a wave of nausea roll up her stomach like a wave. She stood quickly and begged her pardon to Gendry before she scurried back to camp. She suddenly had a desire to see a Maester. Gendry could only look on with concern as she fled.

 

—

 

The city was almost silent as they started to pick their way through the debris. The only sound was their footsteps, the occasional murmur of their voices, a gasp here and there, the creak of buildings scarred beyond recognition, and the odd crash as parts of stone and rock walls collapsed. The horror was dumbfounding, the same, but different to the destruction of the long night. Brienne walked behind Tyrion, Sansa, Jon, Davos, and Gendry, Pod trailed behind her. They were winding their way towards the centre of the city, heading towards the Red Keep; Brienne only half took in what Tyrion, Jon, and Davos were saying to Sansa and Gendry.

 

“You say there are still bodies amongst the ruins?” Sansa held a kerchief to her nose agains the lingering smoke and stench.

 

Davos nodded, “yes my Lady, I doubt we will even find every body, the task is insurmountable, the rebuilding of the city will take years.”

 

Jon winced and rolled his shoulders, he looked pale, “I think I’m going to head back, you have this in hand Lord Tyrion.”

 

Tyrion nodded as they watched the potential King walk back the way they came.

 

“How is he? Really?” Sansa asked Tyrion and Davos. The two men glanced at each other before Tyrion spoke.

 

“I think he is struggling with what he had to do, I doubt he will take up the Kingship, though he may not have a choice, we need someone to lead the Seven Kingdoms, and sooner rather then later.”

 

Sansa briefly glanced back at Brienne and Pod before leaning closer to Tyrion, “and what of Cersei and Ser Jaime? How do you know for certain they….”

 

Despite Sansa trying to ask quietly and out of Brienne’s hearing, Brienne still heard, strangely she felt a desire to know where Jaime had lost his life.

 

Tyrion cleared his throat and with a slightly rough voice replied, “in the Red Keep… we found Jaime’s golden hand, it must have fallen loose whilst they were trying to escape.” 

 

Suddenly Brienne felt that she couldn’t breathe, she felt the panic rise up through her body like a strange clawing creature with sharp pricks that threatened to pierce her skin. She turned away from Pod, Sansa, and all the others, and simply allowed her long legs to take her away as fast as she could. The entire journey down from Winterfell she had been proud of her ability to keep herself together, to keep her grief at bay, but hearing about and seeing where he died, where he fell, it was too much.

 

Tyrion watched her flee, his mouth twitching slightly; Pod, with a look of concern on his face, turned to go after her, but Tyrion grabbed his arm and murmured, “I’ll go.”

 

It took him awhile to find her, people pointing him in the direction of the “great tall lady” like a trail of breadcrumbs, but he did find her down by one of the low cliff walls. Tyrion approached carefully and cleared his throat to let her know that he was there. She didn’t turn around, though he could see her shoulders raise upwards as she gave a big sigh, her eyes gazed out to the horizon. Smoke still drifted across the water from pieces of driftwood, courtesy of Euron Greyjoy’s fleet, that was still smouldering. Drawing level with her, Tyrion placed his hands on the small stone wall, and started to say, “he lo-“.

 

“Don’t say it!” Brienne croaked, “please don’t say it.”

 

Tyrion nodded as he watched a single tear streak down her cheek, he simply shifted his hand to grab her’s, giving it a squeeze. Brienne squeezed back before letting go and turning to face Tyrion. She blew her cheeks out, took a deep breath, and asked, “you found his hand, but have you found the bodies yet?”

 

Tyrion shook his head, “the damage, the burnt rubble, it will take time Ser Brienne, we may not even find them, ever.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne comes to an important decision in this chapter - I wasn't sure how I felt about her becoming the Lord Commander of the King's Guard on the show, I have come around to this idea, but with her being pregnant in this story I feel she would want to be with family... and I intend to introduce you to some of her extended family in the coming chapters.... having said that, in the next chapter we will finally see what has happened to Jaime, is he alive? is he dead? are we clowns!... it is a shorter chapter, and unbeta'd - sorry!

A few days had passed when Bran and the rest of the Northern party arrived. The Starks finally had a reunion worthy of celebration after the turmoil of the past few months. In the Command tent tables were set up, wine and ale was brought in from the surrounding towns and villages, and hunts were had to provide a feast, not just for the Lord’s and Ladys, but Sansa insisted also the soldiers, Maesters, and wounded. Despite the overwhelming numbers of people needing food, there seemed to be just enough for everyone to have a small plateful.

 

The Stark children were all sat at the head table, alongside Tyrion, Davos, and Gendry. Brienne and Pod were sat along at the next table alongside Northern soldiers and the like. Brienne had been quiet all evening and Pod was concerned. She had barely touched her Dornish wine and she only picked at the food on her plate. At one point she had glanced up at the head table and blanched as she saw Arya and Gendry talking. Gendry was trying to hold her hand, but Arya kept pulling it away, eventually she gave him her hand and spoke earnestly, though Brienne had no idea what she was saying. Brienne’s mind drifted back to several weeks beforehand.

 

_She had been making her way across the central courtyard, which was bustling with soldiers and Maesters and builders and villagers. Jaime had appeared out of nowhere, falling into step beside her, a glint in his eye that Brienne had learnt meant he was up to no good. Suddenly she felt him grab her hand and weave his fingers through hers. “What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to pull her hand free. Jaime had grinned at her and tightened his grip before raising her gloved hand to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss on its back. The blush it caused Brienne would go down as legendary in Winterfell - the Lady Knight who would blush as red as a crisp tawny apple._

 

Turning her head away from the couple, who were now arguing, her eyes then locked with Tyrion’s. He smiled gently at her, _a pitying smile_ , Brienne thought, and she felt anger course through her veins. When she really thought about it it was really Tyrion who had started the trouble she found herself in now. If Tyrion hadn’t suggested they play that stupid drinking game, then maybe Jaime wouldn’t have followed her to her room, he wouldn’t have looked like a fool trying to seduce her - _it’s too hot ha!_ \- and she wouldn’t have made the choice to be with him the way she had wanted to be with him for a very long time.

 

The serving girls started to bring in the greasy slices of hog, piled on plates, they dropped them on tables, fat dripping onto the table cloths. The smell was intense, a thick, slightly sweet smell, it invaded Brienne’s nostrils and made her gag. Promptly she stood up and bolted out the tent flap. Only Pod, Tyrion, and Sansa noticed, everyone else was to in their cups and talking. Pod looked at Tyrion, Tyrion glanced at Sansa who went to go after her, but Tyrion leapt from his chair stating he would go and make sure she was okay.

 

As he exited the tent Tyrion looked left and right and couldn’t see Brienne anywhere. A soldier standing near by nodded towards the left, “you looking for Ser Brienne? She went that way my Lord.”

 

Tyrion thanked him as he passed by. He walked hurriedly through the tents and when he had almost made the edge of the encampment he heard the sound of vomiting. He spied Brienne, she was kneeling next to a small bush, her head buried amongst its leaves as she emptied her stomach. Brienne eventually emerged, turned, and sat, her knees up and her head resting on them.

 

“You didn’t have to come find me.”

 

Tyrion approached her carefully, “are you alright Ser Brienne?”

 

Brienne raised her had and Tyrion was shocked to see how pale she was, her skin was whiter than her hair, her lips were bloodless, and her eyes bloodshot from vomiting and crying.

 

“I’m pregnant,” she said, promptly bursting into tears.

 

Tyrion felt his stomach do the strangest swoop and his heart dropped. “Brienne, I… I have no words.”

 

“Whatever you do don’t say you are sorry, and don’t ask me to take the tea and be rid of it, if I make it through the pregnancy without trouble I am keeping the baby.” She looked at him wearily, almost as if she believed he would snatch the babe from her womb and keep it for himself.

 

Tyrion shook his head as he approached her, “Ser Brienne I would never ask you to be rid of the babe, I am just shocked that is all.”

 

Sitting down beside her he continued, “I shouldn’t be shocked though, I know, I mean, I know what can happen when a man and a woman….”

 

Brienne looked at him as though he was mad, and perhaps he was, his mind had seemingly stopped working and all he could think about was he would not be the only Lannister left. Clearing his throat he turned to Brienne again, “I know it might not be much consolation, but… well, I am assuming I will be the babe’s Uncle and that, that I am very pleased about.”

 

“You assume? You assume? Do you take me for a common whore my Lord? I have only slept with one man and that man is your brother!”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know… I will shut-up now as I seem to be making a right mess of things, but Brienne,” Tyrion reached up and took her hand. “Brienne, as this babe’s Uncle, please let me be of help to you, please don’t be so proud as to think you have to do this alone. I would like to think that, well, that Jaime would want me to help you, to look out for you and the babe.”

 

Brienne turned to him with a gentle frown and tears in her eyes, “I haven’t really thought much about what the future might mean for me and him… or her, but, I guess I will need some help. My child is to be a bastard, but having you as his, or her, Uncle might be helpful as they grow.”

 

Tyrion nodded, “well, let us start now, planning this child’s future. We will have the council meeting tomorrow and try to sort out the mess of succession, Jon should rightly be King, but he doesn’t seem to want the role… but once we have a King, or Queen, I will interceded on your behalf, I don’t see why this babe shouldn’t be legitimised when it is born… You are the next Evenstar of Tarth, you need an heir, this child will be that heir.”

 

Amongst the deep grief and worry she was feeling Brienne felt a light flicker in her heart. She looked at Tyrion and saw he was sincere. Perhaps she didn’t have to be as alone on this journey as she thought she would have to be.

 

—

It took a couple of days to sort out the succession of the throne. On the first day Jon had refused flat out to even consider the role of King. He didn’t want to play the game and therefore decided to remove himself completely from the seven kingdoms, he was to head north of the wall and join his Wildling family there. Sansa didn’t want to be Queen of the seven kingdoms, only to be Queen of the North. When Brienne heard her say this her heart sank slightly, she still felt beholden to the Stark girl, the oath that Jaime had given her, but she didn’t think she could go North again, not after everything that had happened, not after finding out she was pregnant. She wanted her child to grow up with family, to be near her father, her cousins, to be near Tyrion. It was in that moment that Brienne came to a clear and decisive decision - she would return to Tarth, to her father, even with the potential shame she may bring him, it was the right thing to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go, finally we find out what happened to Jaime... I had the scene on the beach written weeks ago (has it really been weeks since episode 4?!?) and it kind of broke my heart, to keep it as canon as possible without having Jaime dead, I figured he just had to have been so consumed with self loathing, depressed, and not in a great place at all... I do have to attach a warning to this chapter, there is mention of attempted suicide.
> 
> Then after the beach Jaime took on a life of his own and ended up at the tavern, let me know what you think!
> 
> And thank you to everyone for your comments and kudos. Again this is unbeta'd and therefore any mistakes are mine, and obvs I don't own GOT, this is just me fixing show canon in my own head.

The waves crashed on the beach wildly in the storm that was almost upon them. The wind was starting to whip up the sand, it stung Jaime’s hand as he sat on the beach, it felt like it could slough away his skin, his sin, his pain.

 

“You aren’t trying again are you?”

 

Jaime looked up into the eyes of the woman who had taken him in, who had saved him, and who now housed him, despite the slight disapproval of her husband. The edges of his mouth tripped into a smile, “of course not! Do you take me for the fool that I am.”

 

Elayne Summers lifted her skirts with one hand and put her other one out to soften her seat next to Jaime. A gentle soul and a midwife, Elayne had come to King’s Landing in the aftermath of the battle and her husband, Olivar, a former Maester for a minor Lord of the StormLands, had come alongside her. Elayne had told Jaime that they were pledged healers of their village and that they had wanted to help the unfortunate souls of King’s Landing as best they could manage.

 

Upon arriving a King’s Landing they had plunged into the chaos, scrambling over rock and scorched skeletons to find anyone who was even remotely alive. The further into the city centre they had trekked the fewer bodies they found, but the odd cry from under rubble drew them further and further on. Once they had reached the Red Keep, together they had scrambled up and down stone and rubble, on and on, until they got to what had been the entrance of the crypt. They had found no-one and had been about to turn back when Elayne had heard a faint groan. Climbing into the crypt she had found a leather clad shoulder sticking out of the rocks. She had called her husband, and together they had moved the rubble, revealing Jaime. His pulse had been so faint at first Elayne had thought that she had imagined hearing a moan. But as they had pulled him out towards the exit another faint groan emitted from his lips. They didn’t know then who it was that had pulled from the rubble, but as Elayne always said, “if there is a sign of life there is always hope.” Once outside the Keep they stitched Jaime’s wounds and dribbling water down his throat, Olivar had then found an old cart they could put him on, together pulling the cart towards the outer walls of the city. Along the way they found others whom they piled on the cart next to Jaime. Upon reaching the outer walls a Maester had directed them to the makeshift healing tents. There had been no space though, the amount of injured and near dead people was numbering on the tens of thousands. Instead they had moved further away from the camp and set up their own healing tent. They were there for almost a week, supporting the Maester’s as best they could, and also watching the rise and fall of a tyrant Queen. After a week they still had two patients left, Jaime and a young lad called Christor, both were still deathly ill. The squalor of the camps would not help their healing, and so Olivar and Elayne had decided to steal one of the soldiers horses, and cart them all back to their village a few hours away. And that was how Jaime had ended up in a small coastal fishing village just outside of Duskendale.

 

Elayne gazed at him, reaching into the sand and picking up the small knife embedded in the sand, “so what do you need with this here knife for Jaime?”

Jaime blinked at her a few times before turning to look back out over the water. His fingers ran over the scabs that were healing on the stump of his right wrist. Slash marks made during a night of desperation; he wanted the physical and emotional pain to stop. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

Elayne pocketed the knife, “good, killing yourself isn’t the answer to your pain…. Jaime, you said her name again last night, in your sleep, are you sure you don’t want us to look for her?”

 

Jaime felt his heart stop, panic set in, and he lost all colour from his cheeks. “No, I said no, I don’t even know where she is, where she could be, and she doesn’t deserve me anyway, she deserves better.”

 

Standing up, Elayne nodded sadly, then offered her hand to Jaime, he took it and heaved himself up. “let us go and eat supper then, the storm is coming in strong now and we don’t want to get caught in it.”

 

Together they strode up to the seaside cottage that housed Elayne, Olivar, their children and their two guests, Jaime and Christor. Jaime took one last glance out to the sea. He didn’t know how or why he was here, he had gone to King’s Landing because he hadn’t wanted Cersei to die alone, to be the only one of them punished for all of their wrongdoings. Yet, Cersei was dead, and he was alive, for what reason he could not fathom.

 

— 

 

Jaime lay in his bed that night but could not sleep. In fact it was very rare that he ever got a full nights rest, his mind was too full, and his heart to empty, to warrant anything other than nightmares when sleep did come. Christor murmured from his bed, another who had nightmares, but unlike Jaime’s, Christor’s were about the destruction of King’s Landing as opposed to the destruction of a sister and a lover. Jaime glanced over at the young lad to make sure he wasn’t going to thrash himself out of bed and onto the floor. Satisfied that Christor was okay Jaime rolled out of bed and dragged his breeches and tunic on. Picking up his coat and boots he made his way to the door of the cottage and slipped outside, glad to see that the storm had passed them by. He pulled his boots and coat on and walked down the cottage path and out onto the laneway, only looking back once to ensure no-one had noticed him leave.

 

It wasn’t a long walk to the nearest tavern, but with Olivar and Elayne frowning on drink, if Jaime needed a wine or ale he had to go searching for it. And drink seemed to be the only thing that allowed him to deal with the mess he found himself in. If Elayne wouldn’t let him take his life with a knife he would damn well drink it away. He pushed his way into the tavern and found the darkest corner to sit in. A tavern wench meandered over to him, her bodice was only half strung meaning her breasts were near bursting from her corset.

 

“Ale or wine my Lord?”

 

“Ale… and I am no-ones Lord so stop calling me that.”

 

She curtsied, gave him a simpering smile, and meandered back to the bar to get his drink.

 

Jaime liked coming to this particular tavern, he had happened upon it on one of his night time walks, he liked that it had dark corners and poor lighting, it meant he could hide himself away from the other clientele. But what he liked most was that it was on the road from King’s Landing to Maidenpool and it was awfully popular with travellers who, after having imbibed a number of wines or ales, would suddenly acquire loose lips.

 

It had been three months since the destruction of the city and the news coming out of the capital intrigued him. The night he had discovered the tavern he had nearly spit his ale clear across the room when he overheard a group of men talking about the new King, Bran the Broken. For the first time since his almost death he had felt like laughing. He couldn’t believe it at first and on leaving the tavern had asked the barkeep if it was true. The next time he had gone he discovered that his little brother had been made the Hand of the King, that Bronn was now Master of Coin, Ser Davos the Master of Ships, and Samwell Tarly had been made Grand Maester. The Lord Commander of the King’s Guard had not been chosen yet. Jaime had frowned at this, in his mind flickered an image, of him standing in The White Tower dressed in rags, of Brienne dressed in the finest armour and the white cape of the King’s Guard flowing behind her as she entered the room, Oathkeeper on her right hip, Widow’s Wail on her left.

 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Jaime nodded thanks to the tavern wench as she put his ale down in front of him, she leant over in that particular way that tavern wenches were told to do, so that he got an eyeful of breast.

 

“Not interested,” he murmured as he took a sip of his drink. The tavern wench pursed her lips before flouncing off in a huff.

 

“Well good sir, I think you disappointed the young lady,” a man appeared and sat opposite Jaime, who scowled at him. “I don’t mean to interrupt friend, but I have noticed you here a few times when I’ve been passing through, you always seem interested in news from the capital, thought I would just come and tell you instead of having you breaking your neck trying to listen in.”

 

The man took a gulp of his ale, twisting in his seat to look at the other people in the bar. The tavern wench had found another man to bare her breasts to who was much more interested in her than Jaime ever was. “I don’t have to tell you a thing if you don’t want, but you know, I can.”

 

“And why would you do that, I was happy just eavesdropping, no interaction, no-“

 

“No names, no hints at who we really are,” the man turned back to Jaime with a strange look in his eye. Jaime felt his heart thud louder; he took a serious gulp of his ale.

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I know who you are, buuuuut there is something about you, it’s like I should know you… you’re not related to Blane Fallow are you?”

 

“No.” Jaime rolled his eyes, who the hell was Blane Fallow, he glanced at the door, an escape would likely be necessary.

 

“Noooo, you're right,” the man leant over and scrutinised Jaime further. Jaime dropped his right arm down beside his thigh, he may not have the gold hand anymore, but people may still be able to put two and two together. Jaime flinched as a flicker of recognition came over the man’s face.

 

“You were in the King’s Guard weren’t you?!? Yeah, I remember now-“

 

Jaime stood quickly, tossed some coins on the table, and without a backwards look left the tavern.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes her way home... will it be a calm, drama-free journey? Probably not, cause it's Game of Thrones, and we need our characters to go through character-arc appropriate drama. And don't worry, Jaime will pop up again soon, but the next couple of chapters will focus on Brienne in Tarth and Tyrion in King's Landing... this is ending up a much longer story than I ever anticipated... and I am still working on The Longest Rode Home, a new chapter for that one by the end of the weekend. Ahhhh fan fiction is my happy place where all our dreams can come true....  
> I don't own GOT, but I do enjoy playing with my favourite characters!

The ship to Tarth was leaving on the hour and Brienne was waiting on Pod to finish packing his meagre belongings.

 

“Come on Pod, seriously, what do you even have to pack?!?”

 

Pod’s cheeks flamed as he finished throwing his small clothes into his sack, “sorry Ser, I just, the… I… I don’t know.”

 

Brienne sighed in frustration as she turned to pick up her own sack of belongings. Her armour had been carefully packed in a crate filled with straw and already placed on the ship. For the past month she hadn’t been able to fit into it anyway, her belly had started to show, only a small bump thus far, but enough to now be noticeable. Oathkeeper was still firmly attached to her hip though; Tyrion had also gifted her Widow’s Wail, which she had then promptly gifted to Pod. This kindness had embarrassed Pod, and he had insisted she keep it, for the baby, but in the end she had convinced him was was the only one worthy to care for such a weapon. Pod slamming his door shut jumped her from her revery. Rolling her eyes she started to walk down the corridor towards the courtyard door, Pod trailing faithfully behind her, her dearest friend in the world.

 

As they walked through the city Brienne wondered at the changes already apparent. It had been three months since the war and though there were still scorched, collapsed buildings everywhere, like new flowers growing out of the earth after a hot summer, houses, shops, and taverns were popping up quickly, shiny and new. Out of the corner of her eye Brienne could make out the shadow of the Red Keep and her hand went to her belly, _out of the death and destruction comes new life_ , this thought gave her hope, gave her heart that she would be okay. She had someone to live for now, to truly live for. 

 

—

 

Tyrion was waiting for Brienne and Pod at the boat that would take them out to the ship. As they approached he leapt off the rock he had been sitting on and held his hand out to shake Pod’s hand, “well Pod it has been a pleasure, as always, look after your Ser Lady.”

 

Brienne scowled at the implication she needed looking after, but Pod nodded in agreement, “of course my Lord, I will make sure she is well looked after, she shall want for nothing.”

 

“Ohhhh come on you two, Pod get on the boat,” Brienne grumbled, her cheeks red with embarrassment. 

 

Tyrion winked at Pod as the lad threw his and Brienne’s sack onto the boat and climbed on. Tyrion turned to Brienne, “Ser Lady Brienne-“

 

“Enough with the Ser Lady bollocks, I’m-“

 

“No Lady? But you are, you are the best Lady I know Ser Brienne, the best knight in the six kingdoms, and you are to be the mother to my niece or nephew, you my Lady are astonishing.”

 

Brienne scoffed, though she offered Tyrion a small smile. Tyrion reached up and took her hand, “you have the letter for your father to explain the legitimacy of the babe?”

 

Brienne bit her lip and nodded.

 

“And I will come to Tarth just before the birth, we are family now, forever and always.” Tyrion kissed the back of Brienne’s hand and waved her onto the boat.

 

—

 

The journey to Tarth took longer then expected, lack of winds meant they had to get the oars out and row for two days, on the third day the wind picked up enough to allow the ship to skip along the waves. The extra time gave Brienne space to think about how she was going to greet her father. There was no point thinking about how she would tell him about her pregnancy, he would see it as soon as he set eyes on her, but she would have to explain and that would be the most difficult part. How to tell him that she fell in love with Jaime Lannister, the most hated man in the Seven Kingdoms, the Kingslayer, that she let him touch her and take her to bed, and that he had abandoned her with a bastard growing in her belly. How to explain to her father that she was angry and hurt, but still so desperately in love and therefore inconsolable at the loss of her lover, friend, and champion. As the ship slipped passed Massey’s Hook, picking up pace, Brienne felt her nerves increase; if she squinted she could just make out a green mirage in the distance, they were almost to Tarth.

 

It only took another half a day to get to the northern tip of Tarth, the ship swung right to follow the islands coast line, another hour or so and they would be at the Evenfall port. Brienne called on Pod to make sure his belongings were packed. Making her way to her own cabin, Brienne stopped for a moment as she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen, she ran her hand over her expanding belly. Pushing through the door she leant over to pick up her sack when she felt another twinge, only this time it felt deeper, almost like something was coming away, fear pierced her heart. A wetness flooded between her legs and a blood spot blossomed on her breeches. Tentatively she reached between her legs and touched, the blood on her hand was thick and viscous, colour drained from her face and her disembodied voice called for Pod.

 

“Yes my Lady, er Ser?” Pod appeared from around the corner, as soon as he saw the blood he reached for her, supporting her to her bed. “Let me go and fetch the Captain.”

 

“Pod, please don’t leave me,” Brienne was trembling, Pod knew she was going into shock. He yelled through the door for help and a moment later a ship hand appeared and took the order to get the Captain.

 

“Lie down my Lady, I-“

 

“Pod I can’t, I can’t loose the baby, nooooooooo,” Brienne moaned into her pillow, her fear palpable. Pod simply stood beside her, flustered, and unsure what to do.

 

The Captain appeared, took one look at the Lady of Tarth and yelled for the third sail to be deployed, and for a raven to be released to the port demanding a Maester and Midwife be ready.

 

“Keep her warm young Pod, my Lady is going into shock, talk to her calmly…. I have seen this with my wife,” the Captain left to prepare for arrival.

 

Pod piled two more blankets on top of Brienne before sitting on the floor beside the bed and looking on helplessly. He loved Brienne as a son would love a mother, was devoted to her like no other, _including Jaime fucking Lannister_. “My Lady, please Ser Brienne, we are nearly there, the Maester will come on board and check you over… are you in pain?”

 

Brienne opened her eyes and looked straight into Pod’s, “the pain has eased.”

 

“That, that’s a good thing, I think!”

 

“I can’t loose the baby Pod,” Brienne whispered.

 

Pod took her hand in his and rubbed her fingers, “I know my Lady, and I have every faith that you won’t, but all the same, I will send a prayer to the Mother.”

 

Brienne nodded as she shut her eyes again. The stickiness of the blood between her legs was like a talisman, a metaphor of her broken bleeding heart, she had grieved enough for ten lifetimes and she wasn’t ready to grieve again.

 

—

 

The Maester was gently palpitating her stomach whilst the midwife examined her bloody breeches. The midwife turned to the Maester and murmured in his ear.

 

“Tell me, please!” Brienne grabbed the Maester’s arm.

 

“My Lady I don’t think you have lost the babe… yet, it is an awful lot of blood, but if you are as far along as you say, it would've been obvious if the babe had come away. I would recommend care though, extreme care for the rest of the pregnancy, no more travel, no sword play, bed rest is what is called for.”

 

Brienne brought her hands to her face and let out a stifled sob. All she could think was that she was still pregnant, that Jaime’s baby was still within her, as safe as could be for now.

 

“Get her dressed in some clean clothes, put moon blow clothes in her breeches, she is still lightly bleeding,” the Maester said to the midwife. He then went into the corridor of the ship where Pod and Lord Selwyn Tarth stood quiet and worried.

 

“She hasn’t lost the baby my Lord, but she isn’t well, we will need to get her to her rooms in the Hall, but she cannot walk and horse back would be impossible, can we have a litter sent down?”

 

Lord Selwyn’s tall frame slumped against the wall, his hand stroked the hilt of his sword, and nodded. Turning to his page her ordered him to get a litter to the pier immediately.

 

—

 

An hour later and after much embarrassment at having been carted to her rooms in a litter, Brienne lay on her bed, the midwife was fluttering around the room, preparing a plate of food for Brienne and pouring water into a goblet. Brienne’s father stood at the end of her bed, a concerned frown marred his handsome features, and her dearest cousin, Dyana, was kneeling on the bed next to her holding her right hand.

 

“I’m alright father, Maester Bayle has said I am fine… and the baby is fine.”

 

“Leave us please Myrtle.” As the midwife curtseyed and left, Selwyn dragged a chair to the side of Brienne’s bed and sat, he reached out and took Brienne’s left hand. Brienne sighed in frustration as she tried to slip both her hands from her loved ones, but both gripped even tighter.

 

“My darling girl, tell me what to think… it has been nigh on ten years since I have seen you, with barely a raven to let me know you are alright. I have heard stories, disturbing stories about you… and about others - and you return to us after the great wars bearing a child, unwed… Tell me sweetling, who has dishonoured you in this way? Who would do this to you? Why would you let him? You are strong enough to hold off any man - I will break his neck!”

 

At this proclamation from her father Brienne paled and then snapped, “well you’re to late father to take the man’s life, he is dead already!”

 

“Who then?!? A soldier from the wars? A Northerner? An Unsullied or Dothraki? I heard those Dothraki just take their women, rape them, mutilate them - a Wildling perhaps? I heard they were at Winterfell when you were” Selwyn’s grip on Brienne’s hand got tighter and tighter as he whipped his righteous anger into a frenzy.

 

Brienne felt tears wet her cheeks as she stared at her father. He was so convinced that something awful had happened that led to the pregnancy, how could she tell him the truth when he was like this, how could she tell him the baby was conceived in a pure moment of love. She turned to look at her cousin. Dyana gently nodded in solidarity and turned to her Uncle, “My Lord, please, it is too much for Brienne right now, we need to let her rest, lest we risk the child’s AND her life further… let us discuss who the father is tomorrow.”

 

Selwyn knew Dyana was right, as angry as he felt towards the unknown man who had done this to his child, he would not risk Brienne’s life. Having lost his wife because of pregnancy and childbirth he would not risk his only remaining child’s. Releasing Brienne’s hand he stood and leant over to kiss her on the cheek, “no matter the circumstances my sweetling, you are my daughter and I love you, and I will love my grandchild as well, now rest and I will see on the morrow.”

 

Once Selwyn closed the door behind him Dyana leant over and wrapped her arms around Brienne. Brienne sobbed into her shoulder, “how can I tell him, how can I tell you Dyana, or anyone else.”

 

“You don’t have to tell us anything, ever, you know that, we are your family and we will always love you,” Diana pulled back and framed her cousin’s face in her hands. “You need to get some rest though, some sleep, I can tell by the dark bags under your eyes you’re simply exhausted.”

 

“Piss off!” Brienne snapped, though she noticed the humour glint in Dyana’s eye.

 

Dyana smiled as she made to get off the bed, “I am so glad you are home Brienne, you were always my favourite cousin, and oh how I have missed you.”

 

Brienne reached for Dyana’s hand again, “please stay with me Dyana, I don’t know if I can sleep… and I, I do want to tell you what, how..”

 

Dyana nodded and lay down beside Brienne, “I am all ears.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooo, this was a kind of emotional chapter to write, with Brienne trying to explain to her father, trying to understand her role in what has happened, with remembering some special, secret sexy-times with our friend Jaime... We're going to have a bit of a time jump next chapter, get us moving a little closer to what is inevitably coming, right!! You know what I mean...

 

 

The next morning Brienne woke to the beautiful soft light of Tarth’s sunrise diffusing the furnishings of her room. Her father hadn’t changed any of it, a mix between tourney swords and crests with girlish decorations of rose silk draping across the bed frame and a gilt framed mirror sitting atop a dressing table. It was like a tomb, a tableau to her childhood, her forgotten and long discarded dreams. _Not all dreams were lost though_ , Brienne thought as she pushed back the coverlet and blankets, and swung her feet onto the floor.

 

“What do you think you are doing my Lady?” Myrtle, who had been quietly stoking the fire, rushed to her side and gently pushed her back into the pillows and drew the blankets up to her chin.

 

“I am not a child, let me be,” Brienne struggled to sit up against Myrtle’s surprisingly strong hands.

 

“No my Lady you are not, but please remember, you almost lost _your_ child yesterday, Maester Bayle has demanded bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy, the only time you will be allowed up is to eat or piss- sorry my Lady, relieve yourself.”

 

Brienne flopped back in a huff and watched Myrtle stepped through her chamber door to grab a breakfast tray from the kitchen lass in the corridor. Smells of scrambled eggs, hot, greasy bacon, and slightly burnt toast assaulted her nostrils. Clapping her hand to her mouth she groaned as her stomach rolled. Myrtle took one look at her and quickly shoved the tray back to the young girl who had delivered it - “take it away and only come back with slightly toasted toast, a small dish of butter, and…. oh and mint tea.”

 

The immediate removal of the assaulting smells didn’t stop Brienne’s urge to be sick. Myrtle grabbed the chamber pot and shoved it under her Lady’s nose, just as Selwyn entered the room; Brienne closed her eyes as she vomited nothing but bile into the pot. Selwyn sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her back, “I remember when your mother was like this, ohhhhh all of you children made her terribly unwell for the first half of her pregnancies, and then she would glow and be smiling again, and be oh so happy.”

 

Brienne passed the pot to Myrtle, who left to empty it, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

“Don’t do that my sweetling, here,” Selwyn passed her a kerchief from his pocket. Brienne took it gratefully.

 

“It is nice to hear you talk about mother… I wish she was here,” Brienne sighed and leant her head on the bed’s headboard.

 

Selwyn nodded and grasped her hand gently, “she loved you children so much… I’m glad, in a way, that she was gone before Galladon… well, I don’t think she could have survived the death of a child.”

 

“But you could?” Brienne inquired… Joffrey’s choking purple face popped into her mind, Cersei screaming over his body, and Jaime standing there looking on helplessly.

 

“We fathers, well, we fathers love our children, and we grieve, and we are deeply effected, but we don’t carry the babes, we don’t quite have the bond a mother has with her children.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s quite right for all father’s, surely…” Brienne clasped her hands in her lap and risked a glance at her father. He was looking at her with the softest expression on his face.

“Who is the father Brienne? I won’t be angry or shout or curse him.” Selwyn reached up a hand and gently swiped from her cheek a tear; she hadn’t even realised she was crying.

 

“I love him, loved him, love him so much.”

 

“Oh my darling,” Selwyn drew his daughter into his arms and held her as she sobbed. Myrtle appeared at the door with the new tray of food, Selwyn indicated for her to leave the tray and then leave, which she did, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

 

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered into her father’s shoulder. “Jaime Lannister.”

 

Selwyn nodded, he had suspected as much, of the many stories he had heard one of them had been that Brienne the Beauty had become the Kingslayer’s whore, a story that had had him raging in his chambers for a full day. He knew his daughter though, when she chose to love she loved deeply, perhaps too deeply, he pondered. It was love and loyalty that had taken her away from him when she poured her devotion onto Renly. He now knew it was love and loyalty that had kept her away all these years. After Renly died her devotion turned to a man who perhaps didn’t deserve her, a man with only a little honour; a man who saved his daughter from rape and a bear and monsters from the frozen North. He squeezed Brienne’s shoulder and released her to lay back against the pillows.

 

Once Brienne had calmed her sobs she told her father her’s and Jaime’s story, the real story, how they wove a path from contempt and distrust through to a wary, grudging respect, and onto a deep bond of trust and love. How Jaime had finally left his sister lover ( _because yes, father, those rumours were true_ ) and they had fought together as one in the Battle for the Living. That Jaime had knighted her before the battle, giving her the greatest honour of her life. That they had conceived their child after the battle, that it was not a fling or Jaime taking the first woman he could find in a moment of battlefield inspired lust, it had been love- for five weeks. That Jaime then left on a suicidal mission, that Jaime was a conflicted man, that Jaime was a soul in pain and she could do nothing to protect him from himself.

 

“Father, I failed him, I failed him and now I am scared I am going to fail our child.”

 

Selwyn was stunned, by the story, by the journey his daughter had been on, by her shaken confidence in her ability to trust herself to care for those she loved. “You haven’t failed him my sweet, he failed himself, he failed you!”

 

Brienne swallowed and shook her head, “you’re not understanding father, he didn’t fail me, he failed himself- he hated himself, he loathed himself, and it’s my fault!”

 

“Whatever do you mean? How can it be your fault? Make me understand.”

 

Brienne hurriedly wiped her new tears away, “I think, I think perhaps he had fooled himself into thinking that he was what everyone believed him to be; when he was younger he had dreams, dreams to be a knight, the kind of knight from the stories and songs. But after, after he slew the mad King, and Ned bloody Stark spread lies about his honour, he started to believe what was said about him. That his honour was shit, that he was worthless, someone who broke oaths as easily as breaking bread.”

 

Brienne sat up straighter and crossed her legs as she turned to her father, “his… sister, she didn’t help, her manipulations to get what she wanted were like tiny cuts to his soul. You see father, Jaime loves- loved so much, he gives- I mean gave, he gave so much to those he loved, but they only took, over and over and he got nothing in return. I think Tyrion tried, but the rift between him and their sister made it nigh on impossible for Jaime to have a proper relationship with him; their father was no better. Did you know that Tywin Lannister, when Jaime was but a boy of eight, made him stand outside in a vicious storm, all night, holding his baby brother, all because Jaime had sung a lullaby to Tyrion. When Jaime told me this he surmised that it was because the lullaby had been his mother’s favourite and Tywin Lannister couldn’t bear it… But who would do that to a child, to two children…”

 

Selwyn nodded in agreement as he took his daughter’s hand in his, “I still-“

 

“What Jaime taught me father was that things can’t ever be black and white, that we all have things we have done that are horrifying, that are despicable, but he also showed me that we can be redeemed, that our good deeds can overcome the bad… He isn’t the monster he thinks he is, I wish… I wish I had been strong enough to show him that.”

 

“Is that why you think it is your fault sweetling? Because he couldn’t see himself through your eyes?” Selwyn felt only sadness that, his only child left in this world, a daughter who was different, but through this difference had such a big heart, believed she was a failure because she couldn’t make the man she loved see himself as she saw him.

 

Brienne nodded and choked out, “father, he died believing himself a monster of the worst sort, and how can I live with that knowing that he felt that way? He has given me the two greatest gifts of my life, he has given me my life!”

 

“And for that I will be eternally grateful to him, in his sacrifice he gave you the chance to live, to come back to me, to… keep the Tarth line going.”

 

Brienne laughed and sobbed at the same time, “even if we were never married father?”

 

“I’ll overlook it this time my sweetling, besides I read the letter from Lord Tyrion, the babe will be legitimised by the King, all will be well,” Selwyn wrapped his arms around his daughter’s shoulders and hugged her. “You look tired my darling girl, rest for awhile, I will send Dyana in to have lunch with you in a few hours.”

 

—

 

After her father had left Myrtle returned and helped her with her breakfast, bathing, and changing into a fresh tunic for bed. Myrtle then checked the baby, gently palpitating Brienne’s growing belly, “you have felt the baby move?”

 

“Yes, a little, like ripples on water.”

 

“That’s good my Lady, and you have had no more bleeding, which is even better… but you are still on bed rest,” Myrtle held her finger up in warning, though she smiled as well. Brienne smiled back and nodded.

 

Myrtle pulled Brienne’s tunic down and loosely lay the blankets over her. Picking up the tray with the empty plates on it, Myrtle stopped at the door, “I will be back at the next bells to check on you.”

 

Brienne snuggled under the covers of her bed and gazed out the window at the blue sky. Winter had reached Tarth, but it was different to Winter in the North. It was still mild, the sun providing a little warmth to the small island, it was only at night that a biting cold could be felt. Brienne’s mind began to wander as she watched a few clouds scud across the sky. It had felt good to tell her story to her father, and to her cousin the night before. She didn’t want to be the only one that knew the truth of their story, and though she had told Pod and Tyrion a lot, they weren’t allowed to know it all. In fact she had left quite a lot out of what she told her father and cousin, there were special, secret things, moments, experiences, that only she would ever know and that would die away with her on her death bed. Her mind thought of one instance in particular…

 

_Brienne was shaking, her long, slim fingers grasping at the furs she lay atop. Her breath was short, her chest heaving, pleasure still ricocheting up her torso and along her limbs. Finally she opened her eyes to find Jaime resting his chin on his hand that was resting on her lower belly. “What was…. I didn’t even….”_

 

_Jaime gave her the cheekiest smile he had ever graced her with, she blinked as she saw… her essence on his beard. He moved his hand and pressed his damp lips to her belly before crawling his way up so they were face to face. “That my love was me tasting the very core of you and you do taste sweet.”_

 

_Brienne raised her hands to her face and hid herself, she felt embarrassed, yet satisfied at the same time. She had known that women would take a man’s cock in their mouths, she had seen it enough when camping with Renly’s army, but she had never imagined that a man could do that with his tongue and teeth and lips to a woman’s… well. She felt his left hand thread through her hair and his thumb brush gently across her temple. She peeked through her fingers and saw Jaime gazing down at her, a bemused look in his eye, his hard cock pressing on her thigh._

 

_“I never even knew that that could be done.”_

 

_Jaime laughed at her and she gave him a shove, though not hard enough to push him away, “well, now you’re going to want me to do that all the time, right?”_

 

_“Jaime,” Brienne huffed in embarrassment._

 

_“And I won’t mind, not at all, I’m not joking, you taste sweeter than, than,” he glanced around the room looking for a descriptor. “Honey! You taste sweeter than honey.”_

 

_Brienne groaned, “I’m never going to be able to look at, let alone eat honey ever again!”_

 

_Jaime laughed even harder, “yes you will.” He then dropped his lips to hers and licked deep into her mouth. She shuddered, she could taste a muskiness, a taste like no other, she could taste herself. She wondered what he would taste like, if she could even think it, even dare._

 

_She pulled away from him and looked him directly in the eye, “I would like to try.”_

 

_Jaime looked at her in confusion, “try?”_

 

_“Tasting you.”_

 

_Brienne had never felt him shiver quite so violently before._

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter is long... but it comes with a very lovely surprise at the end - Brienne has her baby, is it a boy, girl, what does she name it? You'll have to read through to find out. I have also sneakily made a reference to Nikolaj Coster-Waldau's word to describe last season - can you find it?!? Disclaimer in that I have never given birth or been pregnant so I a lot of artistic licence and some very basic research has gone into this chapter. And next chapter we will duck back to Jaime for a visit and find how how is after this time jump of a few months.

 

 

Brienne stood on the balcony of her room gazing out at the ships coming into port. One of them carried Lord Tyrion, Maester Tarly and his wife. Brienne had been surprised to learn that Sam and Gilly were coming to visit, along with their two children. Tyrion had stated that Sam wanted to see Tarth, and then in a side note that Sam also wanted to support the wonderful Ser Brienne in delivery of her first child. Brienne felt that Maester Bayle and Myrtle wouldn’t be happy about having their “patch” encroached upon.

 

The sun was glinting brightly off the water, it was a warm day and there was talk that perhaps spring was coming very early for once, Brienne hoped so. She smoothed her hands over her stretched belly, she was so big now, and the baby, thankfully, was active, often doing what felt like somersaults and swordplay in her womb. Still under bed rest, Maester Bayle had softened his stance slightly, allowing her to sit on her balcony during the day if it was warm enough. It had been a relief, as the boredom and lack of physical activity had been enough to make her snappy with Myrtle, Maester Bayle, and Pod, and teary with her father and Dyana and any other relatives who came to visit.

 

Her father had tried to alleviate the boredom by giving her governing issues to deal with, but what was mediating a dispute between the fisherman on the northern shore compared to sword fighting. Early evening, when Pod would come to visit, she would demand he tell her about the new soldiers he was training, butting in on the odd occasion to level heavy criticism at him. Pod though took it in his stride, patiently sitting through her tirades about how he shouldn’t be too gentle with them, that he should toughen himself and them up, that a good sparring session should include more bruises. And at the end of his visit her would always say to her, “Ser Brienne your expertise is much appreciated, I will try those suggestions out and let you know how it goes.”

 

The past three and a half months had been tough. Being bed ridden had also given her plenty of time to focus on her grief, to fall fully into missing Jaime, and the fact that she was about to see Tyrion again after so long had her worried. Would she burst into tears when she saw Jaime’s brother, would she punch him, she really felt like punching someone and he would be a good candidate. She turned at a knock on her chamber door and walked into the room as the door opened. Pod walked in first with a big smile, a laugh dying on his lips, behind him was Tyrion.

 

“Ser Brienne, you have a guest.”

 

Tyrion and Brienne simply stood there for a moment gazing at each other. Each took in the lines of grief on the other’s face, each took in the slight wariness, and then Tyrion took in her belly where his niece or nephew lay snuggled warm and safe.

 

“You look beautiful Ser Brienne.”

 

Brienne blushed at Tyrion’s statement and waved for them to sit down. Pod begged off, stating he had a bunch of inept soldiers to whip into shape. Brienne glared at him as he walked through the door. Tyrion sat down, pouring them each some well watered wine, before leaning back, looking around the room, and smiling.

 

“Ah, I can see a young Brienne living in this room many years ago, a maid with a desire to fight.”

 

Brienne huffed slightly and took her seat. Tyrion watched her as she rubbed her belly, “the baby lion giving you any further trouble?” Tyrion had been terrified when he had received a raven from Pod saying Brienne had nearly lost the baby. This baby, and by extension Brienne, was the only true family he had left, and he intended to keep them safe and happy.

 

“No, he, or she, have been fine, as far as Maester Bayle is aware. Though I am sure that I have many bruised ribs from the way this babe kicks me. Why did Maester Tarly and his wife come?” Brienne asked, straight to the point as always. Tyrion laughed.

 

“Well, to be honest? I asked him to come… I am sure that you have every faith in Maester Bayle, but I just thought, it is my niece or nephew, that another pair of hands might be useful.”

 

“Maester Bayle is not going to like this.”

 

“Well he will have to, I really do insist that Maester Tarly be present at the birth… and Gilly, well, she’s had two children already, I didn’t know if you had anyone to talk to about the birth, I imagine you must be a little worried.” Tyrion glanced carefully at Brienne, unsure if he had overstepped his boundaries.

 

Brienne looked down and picked at her fingernails. She hadn’t admitted it to anyone but Dyana that she was nervous, but Dyana was a maid still, and her cousin who had had a child was living in Duskendale now, and she didn’t know the other Lady’s on Tarth well enough to ask them.

 

“I don’t have anyone to ask,” Brienne acknowledged. “And as the time gets closer I am a little worried.”

 

Tyrion reached over and stilled her hands, “we are all here for you Brienne, we all want you and the babe to be safe.”

 

“Only because it is Jaime’s baby,” Brienne quipped with a frown. _Why would Tyrion care about me?_ , she thought, _other than the fact I carry his dead brother’s child_.

 

“NO!” Tyrion exclaimed back, “Ser Brienne I have admired you for a very long time, ever since you brought my brother back to King’s Landing all those many, many, many years ago. You are unique and wonderful, and I consider you a friend, and soon a family member… Jaime, for all that he rode away from Winterfell, he loved you very much. I do all of this for him as much as me.”

 

Brienne sighed and let her shoulders slump, “I’m tired, I’m so so tired, of being pregnant, of having to persevere with everyones stares and comments, I’m tired of grieving a man you say loved me, but who ultimately was too weak to completely leave a manipulative bitch of a sister- sorry!”

 

“No, no, don’t be sorry, if anyone is going to hate Cersei more than you it is me… their relationship was extremely complicated to say the least.”

 

Brienne looked at him in disbelief.

 

“Not that that is an excuse, but I think it can help us understand… did he ever tell you about their relationship?” Tyrion trod carefully, he had never imagined their conversation would come to this point, but perhaps he had to clear the air with Brienne about his brother and sister.

 

“A little,” Brienne whispered. She reached for her cup of well watered wine.

 

“They were… or rather Cersei thought they were mirrors of each other, but I know you know, and I know, that that could not be further from the truth. Cersei was always powerless, from the time of, well, her first bleed, right through to… she felt she only had some control over her life if she could manipulate people, be sly with them, goad them, and in Jaime’s, and dare I say it a few others case, seduce them. With Jaime it was deeper though, she firmly believed that they were one, that Jaime was merely an extension of herself, that their children were an extension of herself. Jaime heard it so much, whispers in his ear, that he came to believe it…”

 

Brienne cleared her throat, her heart bled, her mind turned to steel as sharp as Oathkeeper, “well why did he come to Winterfell when he did, why did he stay with- in Winterfell for over a month, especially when he knew that they were going to destroy your sister?!? He stayed because he was his own person, his own being, he had autonomy, he made choices that were true and right-“

 

Tyrion cut in, “yes, yes he did! And he was an idiot, to leave you, he was so happy, he was, you have to believe me… all I can say is that he tried… he was always kind to me, especially in comparison to Cersei and Father, he was a good man, you and I both know that, unfortunately he didn’t, or rather refused to see that he could be redeemed for the choices he made for our sweet sister.”

 

Brienne slammed her cup down and crossed her arms in front of her. Just as she was tired of pregnancy and grieving, she was now tired of hearing Tyrion try to justify Jaime’s life choices, these waves of anger had been washing over her more and more the closer she got to giving birth. Maester Bayle had said the baby would be making her humours out of balance and that was the reason for her wavering emotions, but she knew it was more, Jaime had made promises to her in Winterfell that only she knew, promises about their life together, their love, and he had thrown it away. She felt vindicated in her anger, she knew Jaime had been conflicted, she felt for his struggle. But now she was tired.

 

“I don’t want to talk about Jaime anymore, my life isn’t all about Jaime you know,” Brienne glared at Tyrion. Tyrion nodded and filled his cup with more wine. They sat for a few minutes awkwardly looking around the room with the occasional glance at each other.

 

“Oh for the Gods sake, if we can’t talk about anything other than Jaime, why are you even here Lord Tyrion?”

 

Tyrion gaped like a fish at her, “I want to meet my niece or nephew, I want to help you celebrate this special occasion, I want to support you in any way that I can!”

 

Running her hands through her hair Brienne decided she had to try with Tyrion, it wasn’t his fault they were in this unique situation - though her mind flashed back to Winterfell and a very intrusive question Tyrion had asked her during a drinking game. _Are you a virgin?_ , the question had humiliated her, but it had seemingly led Jaime to her door, and without that happening she definitely wouldn’t be in this position right now.

 

“Tell me, how is King Bran? How is the rebuilding of the capital going?”

 

Tyrion smiled at her and settled back to tell her the latest news from King’s Landing.

 

—

 

Tyrion had been there a week before Brienne went into labour. No-one found out until they had all sat down for breakfast and Lord Selwyn had entered briefly to say that Brienne had started labouring in the early hours. Sam’s eyes had widened and he had leapt up and hurried out of the room. Tyrion chuckled to himself, _oh to be a fly in Brienne’s chambers_ , Maester Bayle and the midwife Myrtle would not like the intrusion. Gilly sat quietly feeding her two children, “Lord Tyrion, I am going to go and support Brienne once I have finished feeding these little squirrels, but could you watch out for them for me?”

 

Tyrion was suddenly feeling generous with his joy and agreed to a task that he knew would be beyond him. Pod recognised this and interjected, “I’ll help with the children too my Lady.”

 

Gilly giggled at being referred to as “my Lady,” a title she had never imagined she would ever have, but one that everyone agreed suited her. Kindness personified, Gilly was one of the most loved Lady’s in King’s Landing, by the small folk and other Lords and Ladies.

 

—

 

Hunched over on the bed Brienne gripped the coverlet in her hands as a wave of pain washed over her. Through battle and sparring, through heartache and grief, Brienne had thought she had experienced the worst kind of pain a man or woman could go through; she had been wrong. The pain was so bad that it took her breath and voice away. As someone who always yelled and screamed their way through wars and injury, this was like nothing that she could comprehend, how can she scream through this when it was so, so, profound. Her body was ripping itself apart to birth her child and she had no control over it. As she reached the peak of the pain she felt someone slip their hand into hers and yell squeeze at her. Glancing up, through the fog of pain, Brienne recognised Gilly, and did as she was told.

 

As the pain started to ease and ebb away, Brienne groaned into the sheets, releasing Gilly’s hand. Maester Bayle and Maester Tully stood at the end of the bed and observed, Myrtle was at the business end and was having a good peer up Brienne’s tunic, “another couple of hours my Lady, why don’t we get you sitting up on the bed and having a few sips of watered wine.”

 

“What?!?” Brienne tried her best to stand and spin around, but only proceeded to fall on the bed, her belly pushing out in protest. “Hours? I still have hours to go?”

 

Myrtle laughed as she helped Brienne get into a more comfortable seated position, “my Lady think of it like one of the battles you have participated in, hours of hard work and pain, but joy in the end when you have won.”

 

Gilly scoffed as she passed Brienne a goblet of watered wine. Myrtle scowled at her. The two Maester’s shared an amused glance. And Brienne felt her frustration and anger rise with the tide of a new contraction.

 

“Out! You two Maesters I want out!” Brienne waved one hand vaguely towards the door as her other hand shoved the goblet at Myrtle and gripped her belly in agony.

 

“My Lady!” Maester Bayle’s grin fell and he made his way to the side of the bed.

 

“Out, OUT, OUT!!!!” Brienne screamed as the pain took her. Myrtle placed the goblet back on the table and opened the chamber door for the Maesters.

 

“We will call you back in if you are needed Maesters,” Myrtle stated as they sulkily walked past. Brienne was gripping Gilly’s hands tightly as Gilly hummed an old Wildling lullaby to distract her.

 

“And you two- if you quibble, argue, or bully each other, both of you will be out as well, I’ll birth this baby by myself!” Brienne groaned out. “Please, help me by working together, please.”

 

Myrtle and Gilly grudgingly nodded to each other. After a few moments of silence, with Brienne gripping both her attendants hands, the contraction started to ease. Myrtle and Gilly helped her lay back and offered her some more watered wine.

 

“I’m sorry I shouted Myrtle, Gilly, I just, this is not like a battle, a battle I feel I have some control over, by my body is not my own, and-“

 

“And?” Gilly asked, smoothing the pillows behind Brienne’s back.

 

“I just, I wish that Jaime was here, that he knew.”

 

Gilly squeezed her shoulder, “he does, I am sure of it, wherever his spirit is, he knows.”

 

The next contraction came on suddenly and a lot sooner than the last one, “I feel like I need to push, something- what is happening!”

 

Myrtle and Gilly helped Brienne lay a little flatter so that Myrtle could check between Brienne’s legs with ease, “my Lady things are moving a long a lot quicker then I thought they would.”

 

"Gilly can you fetch my cousin? I would like her here.” Brienne groaned as Myrtle pushed her onto her side and lifted her left leg for a better look. Gilly went to the door and asked Sam to fetch Dyana.

 

“My Lady don’t push just yet, wait until the next contraction.”

 

The next contraction hit Brienne just as Dyana entered; Dyana sat behind Brienne and held a damp cloth to her head, Gilly held both Brienne’s hands and bade her to squeeze as hard as she could.

 

“It’s coming!” Brienne wheezed out as the pain took her breath away.

 

“I can see the baby’s head, push my Lady, push!”

 

Brienne had never felt anything like it, her body felt like it was burning, like a flame was licking up from her nether regions to her chest. Her mind was focused solely on that pain and she thought she might combust like a phoenix and take the baby with her.

 

“Breathe my Lady, breathe,” Gilly instructed her, a look of concern on her face, for Brienne’s face had gone a rather ugly puce colour.

 

“Push my Lady push!” Myrtle counteracted, her fingers eased around the baby’s head to help it out.

 

“Piss off!!” Brienne shouted. “Breathe, push, I can’t do both!”

 

“Well take a big deep breath and then push,” Gilly said.

 

“The head is born, stop pushing for a moment my Lady, take a breath.”

 

Brienne looked between Myrtle and Gilly, before glancing at Dyana, “what is it Ladies, breathe, push, stop, go, I never knew child birth could be so confusing.”

 

“Well I’ve never had a child cousin so I can’t give you advice, beyond go with what your body tells you.” Dyana shyly stated.

 

Gilly sighed, “I agree, that is good advice Dyana, my Lady what is your body telling you to do now?”

 

The next contraction came and along with it the urge to push again. “I need to push!”

 

Myrtle smiled and said, “go for it my Lady, push as you’ve never pushed before and this babe will be born.”

 

Brienne bore down with all her might, all of her physical and mental strength focused between her legs to deliver her child, nothing else mattered in the world. Suddenly Brienne felt the intense pressure ease and through the pain fog that gripped her she heard a lusty cry. Dyana and Gilly helped her lay back down and Myrtle was cooing at the crying thing between her legs.

 

The next few minutes were like a dream, the pain was easing, but Brienne felt bruised from the inside out, she felt faint, she felt like she was floating on the tide out towards an inky darkness. Then suddenly, a pale pink light broke through the darkness, like a gradual blaze of dawn; Myrtle was placing a squirming wriggling little thing in Brienne’s arms. Brienne gazed in awe down at her child, the baby had stopped screaming, but sported a pout and frown that could rival Brienne’s own, the baby’s eyes were wide and unfocused, trying to look at it’s mother.

 

“Blue,” Brienne murmured.

 

“Yes my Lady, your daughter has beautiful blue eyes,” Myrtle stated as she grabbed a pot to place between Brienne’s legs. “My Lady we need to deliver the afterbirth, are you feeling any contractions?”

 

Brienne was so besotted with her baby she hadn’t even realised the contraction pain coming on again. Gilly quickly grabbed the baby from her to let her concentrate. It didn’t take long for the afterbirth to come and for Myrtle and Dyana to clean Brienne up. Whilst they were looking after Brienne, Gilly gently washed the baby girl, and wrapped her in a soft lambs wool blanket. Once Brienne was settled again Gilly passed her the baby. Feeling clearer headed, Brienne could now take all of the baby in, as she carefully ran a finger down her face. The baby puckered her lips and waved a hand towards her mother’s face. Brienne broke into the biggest grin and grabbed the hand, bringing in to her lips and giving it the softest kiss.

 

“Shall we try feeding her my Lady?” Myrtle stood by the side of the bed smiling.

 

Brienne nodded. She had thought that she knew what love was, what it was with Jaime, what it was with her father, with Pod and Lady Sansa, but all of these types of love didn’t compare to what she felt looking at her baby.

 

“Do you have a name for her?” Gilly asked as she helped support the baby so that Brienne could untie her tunic for feeding.

 

As the baby settled at her breast Brienne smiled, “yes, Alys Joanna Tarth.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are finally back to a Jaime chapter, it is set at the same time as the previous chapter, so many many months have passed since the battle and rescue, etc. Jaime is coming out of his dark place, slowly but surely...

 

 

Jaime was dreaming again, a dream that seemed so beautifully perfect and real.

 

_Jaime stood on a beach at the bottom of a cliff, it reminded him of some of the beaches around King’s Landing, but the sand was paler, almost white, and the water was not the boggy green of the Blackwater, but the clearest and brightest of blues. He could hear sword fighting coming from the top of the cliff. He looked up, but was momentarily blinded by the bright warm sun. Once his vision cleared he could see the steps cut into the sandstone of the cliff. He ran to them and leapt up, two at a time. About half way up he slipped, flinging his arms forward to stop his fall- it was then that he noticed he had his right hand. He looked at it in wonder, flexing his fingers; as he stood he felt the heaviness of a sword on his hip, glancing down he smiled as he realised Widow’s Wail was secured around his waist. He drew the sword with his right hand and it felt glorious. The clashing of swords drew his attention again, and holding his sword to the ready he flew up the remaining stairs. Reaching the top of the cliff he took in the sandstone castle that sat at its top, he saw Pod standing next to a doorway into the castle, Pod’s sword was drawn and he was sweaty as though he had just finished a fight. He pushed open the door and said to Jaime, “she went through there, but hurry, she hasn’t much time left.” Jaime nodded, concerned about what Pod was saying, was he speaking of Brienne, was she injured? Running through the door, Jaime grabbed a lantern that had been hanging from the wall, and followed the dark tunnel into the belly of the castle. The tunnel started to close in on him, the walls getting closer and closer together, the walls were touching his shoulders and he was having to walk sideways to fit through, a shaft of light gradually grew bigger at the end of the tunnel. The light was blinding as he squeezed through the narrow opening out into a beautiful courtyard. Two bodies lay on the dirt, a man and a woman, both face down. Both bodies were horrifically bruised and there were obvious broken bones; the man had also bled out, a pool of thick blood spread out around the body. Jaime felt bile rise in his throat as he approached them. Firstly he turned the woman’s body over and leant forward with a gasp of grief. Cersei’s face was smashed almost beyond recognition. Her green eyes were open, not longer glittering and beautiful, but bloodshot and yellowish. Jaime fell to his knees and cupped her face, “my sister.” There was no response, why he thought there would be he did not know, she was gone, gone forever. He glanced over at the man’s body; he knew, he knew who the man was. He stepped around his sister’s body and approached the man. Hesitating, he prodded the body with his foot, before grasping any shred of courage he had and turned the body over. His own eyes stared up at him, green and dead, until they weren’t. Jaime stepped backwards quickly as his dead mirror image flicked its eyes to his. Dead Jaime then whispered, “there’s not much time left you fool.” A baby’s cry broke cut through the courtyard like a knife, the very stone walls and decorative trees and shrubs seemed to vibrate with the sound, a vibration of life. “Jaime.” Her low, soft voice caught his attention and he turned, he almost fell to his knees at the sight of her. Brienne stood on the other side of Cersei’s body. She was dressed in the clothing she had worn the first night they had laid together. The tunic top was undone and hanging slightly open. He felt himself go hard as he took in the glimpse of pale white skin and the slight curve of breast. Oh how he wanted her. He softened quickly enough though as he noticed blood pouring from between her legs, it made her cotton trousers change from light brown to a ruddy red and stick to her legs. “Brienne, what has happened?” He stumbled towards her, all he could think was that she was dying. “Be quiet- you’ll wake the baby!” Brienne turned to leave. Jaime made to follow her, but stumbled, confused he looked down to see what had tripped him. Cersei’s body. Her eyes still gazing dead and dull up at him. “Here Jaime, turn away from her, that story is over now.” He looked up to see Brienne approaching him, she was changed into deep blue dyed leather trousers and a deep rose velvet tunic, stars and suns were embroidered across the lush fabric. Her hair was much longer then it had been, she had the top half tied into a bun at the back of her head and the bottom half curled tenderly around her neck and shoulders. In her arms she held a little girl dressed similarly to her mother, she wore deep blue cotton trousers, but her tunic was Lannister red, edged in gold thread. Her hair was the colour of spun gold, as his hair had been as a child, but her eyes were the sapphire blue of her mother’s. The girl gave him a tentative smile and reached a hand out to him, “Papa!”_

 

Jaime sat up so quickly he almost fell out of bed. His heart was racing, but the dream was fading quickly, too quickly. He desperately grasped onto the image of Brienne and the little girl. His little girl. She had been his and Brienne’s. Rubbing his face he pushed the blankets back and swung his legs off the bed. His family, he had been dreaming of what could’ve been, but wasn’t. It was a wish, a wisp of a dream, something that should’ve happened, but could never ever happen in reality. And it broke his heart. It was his own fault though, the choices he had made had led him to this, to where he was now. The sound of Elayne starting to make breakfast in the kitchen jolted him from his thoughts. Glancing out the window he saw that dawn was upon them. Deciding he was not going to get back to sleep he rose and dressed before heading out to the kitchen.

 

Elayne was stoking the fire as Jaime came through the door. She turned and smiled at him, “you’re up early Jaime, I thought you had been sleeping better lately?”

 

Jaime grunted and went to the tub that held water for washing up before meals. He splashed some water on his head and shook the droplets of like a dog would shake its coat. “I had a dream.”

 

“Oh?” Elayne asked as she moved the pot used to brew tea onto the hook that hung above the flames. “Wish to share?”

 

“Um,” Jaime hesitated as he moved to the kitchen table and popped eggs into another pot, filling it with water, and handing it to Elayne to pop on another hook over the flames. “It, it was good, I think, most of it.”

 

Elayne nodded as she started to slice bread to make toast. Jaime sat down at the table and watched. He had been with Elayne’s family for eight months now. He often felt, and stated, that he had been a burden on them long enough, but Elayne and Olivar insisted he was no burden. Their only condition to him staying on with them was that he helped around the house, and that he found himself a job to go to during the day, just as Christor had done. He was happy to help around the house, but as a one handed former knight trying to keep his identity a secret, he was finding it hard to find someone who would employ him. Non of the fishermen would have him, the cattle grazers up in the higher fields wouldn’t have him, and the blacksmith, wheelwright, and carpenter wouldn’t have him either. Olivar had suggested one of the taverns in Duskendale or on the King's Road might take him on as a barrel boy or even a guard at the door to deal with drunks and unsavories. Jaime had laughed at the suggestion, but Olivar had been serious, Jaime excused himself from such work on the basis that someone might recognise him. What Jaime failed to tell them was that someone is a tavern months ago had almost guessed who he was. It was his biggest fear, that he would be found out, and dragged back to King’s Landing to stand trial or be executed. He couldn’t do that to Brienne and Tyrion, have them grieve again. Thinking of Brienne he found he wanted to talk about her. He had given tidbits away to Elayne over the past few months, explaining who the woman was he had called for in his fever dreams, explaining why he could never see her again.

 

“I dreamt of her again.”

 

“Oh,” Elayne simply raised an eyebrow at him as she kept an eye on the bread toasting. “You said it was a good dream, care to share?”

 

Jaime felt himself blushing, and suddenly what he could remember of the dream came tumbling out, too few specifics, but Elayne gathered the gist.

 

“She had a child in her arms?” Elayne popped the toast on plates and took the eggs off the boil.

 

“It was a dream Elayne.” Jaime replied, his sardonic drawl was coming back now that he was physically and emotionally stronger.

 

“I know, I know, but a nice dream all the same… it sounds to me you were dreaming the birthing process, you know, birthing is quite a battle for a woman, the tunnel, death, life… love.”

 

“You have a very eager imagination I think.” Jaime stated as he grabbed hot eggs out of the pot and put them in a bowl.

 

Elayne laughed as she poured the tea and Olivar, Christor, and the Summer’s three children entered the kitchen.

 

“What’s so funny my love?” Olivar asked as he sat at the head of the table.

 

—

 

Over breakfast Olivar has hinted rather strongly that he hoped Jaime would go to some of the taverns to look for work that day, and so that was how Jaime now found himself trudging the path towards the King's Road where the tavern he had first found during his time of numbing his pain with drink was. The sun was out and spring was definitely on it’s way. Little blue bells were pushing their sleepy heads up and out of the ground, and mud pools were drying up, allowing grass to create a soft green fuzz, recolouring the ground into a beautiful emerald green. Jaime pushed his cloak over his shoulders, he was feeling the warmth a little too much; his new hook, courtesy of the local blacksmith, got caught in the fabric. Sighing, Jaime pulled his arm in frustration, grimacing as the hook pulled through the fabric, causing a gaping tear. Muttering to himself, Jaime pulled the cloak back round his shoulder to have a look, though a deep laugh from behind made him drop the cloak and spin around ready to defend himself.

 

“Having a bit of trouble friend?” The man was a portly fellow, his cheeks paunchy and pock marked, his eyes a sickly yellow, he looked like a drunken, sick-ridden, peasant, though his clothes seemed to indicate he was better off. A bag of coins hidden poorly under the man’s coat also indicated to Jaime that this was no mere beggar, lowly farmer, or fisherman.

 

“I’m not your friend,” Jaime muttered as he eyed the man warily, though there was something about the man that seemed slightly familiar.

 

The man laughed again, “alright, alright, just thought you might need a little help, that is all… that hook is an almighty fearsome weapon.”

 

“A weapon?” Jaime held his hook up and looked at it, it was a dull steel hook, attached to a small block of wood that was then covered by a leather cuff that attached securely to his stump. The point was sharp enough though, as evidenced by the tear in his cloak, and could, in all likelihood take our a man’s eye or cut a vein if need be. “I suppose you could be right."

 

“I am right, I’ve seen a man with a only a hook kill three people in a tavern once, mind you the three men were all drunkards and slow and couldn’t tell their swords from… well, their swords if you get my meaning, they were trying to rob the man with the hook. Three slices across their throats and they weren’t robbing people anymore.”

 

“Noooo, I can imagine,” Jaime raised his eyebrows and turned to look back down the path. He really wanted to get on with his journey to the tavern; alway impatient, Jaime wanted to gather his job rejections and then head home.

 

“I do apologise, I’m holding you up from your journey, where are you headed? I might be able to walk part of the way.”

 

Jaime had to stop himself from pinching his nose in frustration, he didn’t want to walk with this man, he just wanted to be on his own, that was all that he had wanted since Elayne and Olivar had got him well again. “I’m heading to a tavern on the King’s Road, I’m sure it is not on your way, so…”

 

“Oh, hoho,” the man gave his jovial laugh again. “Which tavern are you headed to?”

 

Jaime blatantly rolled his eyes, “The Dayns Tavern… you probably don’t know it.”

 

The man clapped his hands in joy, “The Dayns Tavern, why my man what a small world this is, I am Carlon Dayns, the owner! Come come, I will give you a free drink once we are there.”

 

Carlon put his arm around Jaime and started to propel him down the path. Jaime scrunched his nose and tried to move away.

 

“It’s a bit early in the day for the tavern though, don’t you think? Why I’m only on my way there to open it up for a clean and to get ready for the lunchtime crowd, but that is hours away.”

 

“Well,” Jaime replied, “I am actually looking for work, and I have been in the Dayns before and thought I would enquire.”

 

Carlon stopped and clapped his hand into Jaime’s left hand, “done, you have a job, you can be a guard for the door, make sure the drunks stay well behaved, especially with my Bessy and Joly, their my two daughters you know, all I have left of their mother, right flirts they are, but harmless, just harmless fun, you know.”

 

Jaime flashed back to the last time he had been in the tavern, and the young tavern wench who had propositioned him, he wondered if that had been Bessy or Joly. Shrugging his shoulders to try and dislodge Carlon’s arm, Jaime considered the father’s proposition, it was a job, all he would have to do is stand there and warn off misbehaving drunks, and it would mean he could get regular news from the capital. There was still the niggling doubt of being recognised though, but perhaps it had been long enough, everyone believed him dead, why would someone who “looked a little like Jaime Lannister” be the actual Jaime Lannister. If someone started to get a little too suspicious he would just quit and never return to the Dayns.

 

“Deal,” Jaime stated. “I’ll take that job if you are serious.”

 

“If I’m serious? Of course I am, what’s your name son?”

 

“Um, Jacob Summers, I’m a cousin of Olivar Summers, that’s where I’m staying.” After decades of lying for his sister, lying came like second nature to Jaime, he only hoped that Olivar wouldn’t mind him claiming kinship.

 

“Well Jacob, welcome to the Dayns Tavern crew!”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your awesome comments, I would've had this up quicker, but it is a longer chapter and I had to travel for work the past two weeks, sooooooo, it is finally here though. I have Brienne and Jaime's meeting again already written, but it is still going to take a few chapters to get to that point, so thank you for your patience, it is coming... still a bit of angst, dialogue, and true bitter-sweet moments to get through first.... including the moment of Jaime and Tyrion reuniting... it's coming.

 

 

 

Since the birth of Alys, four weeks beforehand, the sun had been shining non-stop, casting a warm, bright glow over the hills of Tarth, creating glittering ripples on the water, warming the sand on the beaches. The people of Tarth were celebrating the birth of the Tarth heir, many were having picnics on the beaches, many were getting drunk in the taverns. It just so happened to be a tavern where Tyrion and Gendry were, seeking a break from the hustle and bustle of the castle; Gendry had arrived that morning and had yet to meet the new babe.

 

Tyrion, already a little tipsy, was raving about his new niece, “My Lord, she is, she is such a pretty girl… not like her mother, but- OH don’t tell Ser Brienne I said that, but ohhhhh little Alys, so sweet, so sweet. She has, she has beautiful golden Lannister hair, all curled-“ Tyrion waved his hands in the air to indicate all the curls, “her eyes though, blue! BLUE!”

 

Gendry laughed at Tyrion’s obvious joy at the new addition to the family. "Well, I look forward to meeting her, I didn't know what present to bring her, I made something, but I am not sure…”

 

“I am sure that whatever gift you have for her will be perfect,” Tyrion picked up his beer and swung it round in merriment. “Unless, of course, you’ve made her a sword- can you imagine! Ha!”

 

Gendry’s face turned a deep red and his mouth gaped like a fish. Tyrion’s eyes widened in disbelief, “you did! You made my little niece a sword!”

 

Gendry nodded in embarrassment, “I thought, well, you know, her parents are the best knights this land has ever seen, I thought, well, why not start her young.”

 

Tyrion snorted, “you do know she can’t even hold her head up by herself, let alone a sword.”

 

“Well, of course I know that, of course,” ducking his head, Gendry was starting to feel like a fool, of course he hadn’t known that babies couldn’t hold their heads up, he knew nothing about babies or children. “It’s for when she’s older, of course, for when she can walk.”

 

Tyrion snorted into his cup, a silence fell between them, contemplative as their thoughts turned to other things. Tyrion pondered on Gendry’s words, _her parents are the best knights this land has ever seen_ , and he sighed. How much of Brienne’s current situation was his fault- so many “what-if’s” had addled him since the Lady had announced her pregnancy to him. What if he had left Jaime locked up in that tent, what if he had made better choices at the peace meeting between Daenerys and Cersei, what if he had had words with Jaime at Winterfell before he had left to go south- he had observed the odd mood Jaime would sometimes descend into after the long night, but the rest of the time Jaime was practically glowing with happiness. What if he hadn’t played the drinking game, practically goading Brienne and Jaime into sleeping together. Of course he had seen how they really felt about each other, the surreptitious looks of adoration that they had shot each other when they thought the other wasn’t watching, it had been, frankly, quite sickening. But always there, behind Jaime, was this hovering shadow of Cersei. _Well_ , Tyrion thought, _Jaime and Brienne had the last laugh really, all Cersei wanted was for her and Jaime’s children to live and thrive and rule, and whilst that part of the family has died out, Jaime has a child that will live on_.

 

“My brother would’ve made a fantastic father if he had been given a chance,” Tyrion muttered, he glanced at Gendry to see his reaction.

 

Gendry smiled softly, glancing around the crowd drinking heavily in the tavern, “he didn’t have a chance at all with his first three?”

 

Tyrion’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, so the parentage of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, was definitely a well known fact these days, “no he didn’t, he loved them though, even Joffrey- though I don’t think he _liked_ his eldest son. Cersei was very protective of her babies, they were always first priority, I will give her that, but the whole situation, it wasn’t fair to Jaime and it wasn’t fair to those children.”

 

“No, I can imagine it wasn’t. For all of Ser Jaime’s sins he seemed like a good man, like he wanted to make up for all his mistakes, to do some good in this world,” Gendry mused. Gendry knew what it was like to be misunderstood, knew what it felt like to not be part of a proper family. It was family that had so attracted him to Arya, to the whole Stark clan, their bond was admirable and desirable. _Arya put a stop to that though_ , Gendry tried to think bitterly, but found he couldn’t. He couldn’t blame Arya for saying no to his proposal, she had been right, she wasn’t the type of girl to want to settle down, marry and have children. The thing was that he was that man, he was the type of man that wanted a family, to feel settled for once in his life, and his new Lordship meant that he was able to do that now if he wished.

 

Tyrion contemplated Gendry, “you know what Jaime’s weakness and strength was? His love, his love for those he cared about, his love made him capable of extraordinary acts, as well as horrific, twisted actions. I fear what my brother’s true crime was was that he loved too much.”

 

“He really loved Brienne didn’t he?”

 

“He did… and would you believe it, I think he loved her the most out of all of us, even more than he ever loved Cersei. He had a chance to have a life, a proper life, with a family, he almost had what the rest of us can only dream about, and he threw it away…” Tyrion felt his throat tighten, those few weeks in Winterfell that he had seen his brother happy had made him so happy, all he had ever wanted for his brother was for him to be free of their sister and in Winterfell he had been.

 

Leaning over the table Gendry squeezed Tyrion’s hand in sympathy, “how did this celebratory drink become so morose, let us ponder your wonderful niece again! Better yet, why don’t we make our way back to the castle, surely it is almost time for the official presentation of Lady Alys Joanna Lannister of Tarth.”

—

 

Brienne was sitting on the edge of her bed. Leaning on her right hand, she was bent over baby Alys, who was cooing softly at her mother. Alys had been dressed by Myrtle in a gown of silver silk that was hemmed with the most delicate of lace, little bows of dark blue and rose pink ribbon accented the neckline and sleeves. Fed, clean and dry, Alys was as happy as a baby could be in that moment, her adoring deep blue eyes trying to focus on Brienne. A little fist pumped into the air, her feet were trying to kick, but they were heavily restrained by the silk. Brienne ran her fingers through Alys’ thick golden curls, so different to her own straw coloured, thin hair. Alys appeared to be a wonderful mix of her and Jaime, and Brienne wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

 

“Did you know that your father was called the Kingslayer?” Brienne told Alys. In response Alys let out a loud burp. Brienne snorted in laughter.

 

“Yes, I quite agree… a silly name for a noble deed that he did. He saved half a million people that day and do you think he got any thanks for that? Nope, not at all, disgusting isn’t it?”

 

Alys sighed and twisted her head to gaze at the sunlight glittering gold on the mirror on the other side of the room. Brienne followed her gaze, “we have you dressed in silver, blue, and rose today, but I thought you should be dressed in blue and red, with golden accents, but apparently the Lannister and Tarth House colours don't mix well. But they are your colours, blue and rose for Tarth, Lannister red and gold…”

 

Alys gave a big yawn and rubbed her eyes.

 

“Am I boring you young Lady?” Brienne tutted at her daughter. “Just like your father. He never liked to have deep, serious conversations, he was a man of wit, japes, and action. He infuriated me, and yet, at the same time his japes would make me want to laugh, or throttle him sometimes.”

 

Alys gave the most ladylike of sneezes. Brienne gently touched her arms and cheeks, “are you a little chilly my Lady? Shall we wrap you in your fancy shawl and shall I escort you to your official presentation to the Lords and Ladies of the Stormlands?”

 

Brienne pulled the sides of the shawl Alys was laying on around her. Carefully she picked her up and cradled her in her arms. Stopping by the mirror on her way to the door she took her mirror-image in. Her hair had grown quite a bit since the long night, it now curled to almost her chin; she wore it loose, Jaime had told her one night that he found her curls endearing and so she was growing them out. Her constant frown had softened, the dent between her eyes appearing less and less since the birth of Alys, motherhood had changed her. Her tunic was a deep blue velvet with few adornments and her trousers a lovely soft leather, deep brown, and comfortable enough to wear over a body still recovering from childbirth. The biggest change, of course, was the baby lying in her arms. A year ago Brienne would have punched anyone who told her she would be a mother in a year’s time. How life could change in an instant, or in the case of the past ten months, many many instances. Closing her eyes for a moment, Brienne saw him, his face, his dear dear face. The pain, the grief was still there, and perhaps it would never leave, but enough time had passed that she could think of him without crying, without wanting to die. Opening her eyes she looked down and smiled. Alys was dozing off and had shifted her face closer to her mother’s chest. For the first time Brienne noticed that Alys had Jaime’s ears, shell like, and perfectly formed. With a delicate fingertip she traced the outline, just as she had traced the outline of Jaime’s ear one night, it had tickled him and he had swatted her hand away; Alys didn’t move, but seemed content to have her mother stroke her.

 

As Brienne turned and opened the door she murmured, “darling you will have to wake up soon, your audience awaits you.”

 

—

 

Brienne’s father stood next to her as the crowd applauded and cheered little Alys, he looked at Brienne with pride, gracing her with a loving smile. With her blush creeping up her neck, Brienne glanced at Alys, who was now wide awake and looking stunned at all the noise. The fact that the Lord and Ladies of the Stormlands were even here was a miracle. Even with King Brandon having legitimised her, Alys would be, still in the eyes of many, a bastard. Brienne held her tighter and looked down at Tyrion who was cheering in the front row, he was rocking from side to side and his nose was glowing red. _He’s drunk!_ Brienne felt anger like she never had before, _he’s drunk at his niece’s party!_ Suddenly Tyrion fell forward onto the floor, the ladies that were stood behind him all screamed, and Ser Davos who had been standing to his right quickly fell to his knees and rolled Tyrion over to make sure he was okay. To Brienne’s horror Tyrion was more than okay, in fact he was literally pissing himself laughing, still trying to clap his hands; Lord Selwyn looked on in horror before demanding that everyone make their way to the inner courtyard for refreshments and entertainment.

 

Ser Davos waved to Gendry and asked him to help him move Tyrion to his room, as they picked him up Lord Selwyn instructed a servant to get a bucket and and mop and clean the mess, Brienne hadn’t moved an inch. Alys started to grumble and squirm. Selwyn turned at the noise, “Brienne take her to the courtyard, people will want to see her.”

 

Brienne turned and walked towards the door, but instead of walking to the courtyard she took the dark and narrow passageway to the outer wall, once there she went through one of the wooden side doors and made her way quickly and quietly down the steps to the beach. She breathed in the fresh air, the only sound was the water crashing on the sand and the wind whistling past her ears, and Alys, still grumbling and squirming. Sitting herself down on the sand, Brienne tugged open her tunic and popped Alys onto her breast, Alys took her nipple hungrily, her body stilling as she focused on feeding. The act of breastfeeding her daughter calmed Brienne, she couldn’t understand why Tyrion had chosen to appear drunk at the party, she thought back to the last time she had seen him this drunk, it had been when he had asked her if she was a virgin. It was really that moment that had led her to this point… or was it. Brienne had loved Jaime for so long, but like her love for Renly, she had hidden it deep in her heart, locked far away in a chamber that only she could access when she chose to. Or that is what she had thought. When Cersei, all those years ago, had accused her of loving Jaime, Brienne had been mortified. Were her feelings that transparent, had Jaime known all that time, had the whole world known.

 

“Hello there.”

 

Brienne jumped a mile and hastily tried to cover her breast whilst Alys was still in the way. Alys became dislodged from Brienne’s nipple and let out a disgruntled wail. Brienne turned away from the intruder and quickly tied her tunic together again.

 

“Oh my, I am so sorry, I didn’t realise, I will head back to the castle!”

 

Brienne turned to identify the intruder and saw the back of Gendry’s head as he stepped quickly towards the stairs.

 

“No, I’m sorry, do come back, please my Lord!”

 

Gendry stopped and turned towards her, his face was a blistering red of embarrassment, and he hesitated, seemingly unsure as to what to do. Brienne, once presentable, gestured towards the sand next to her. Gendry approached and sat, knees up, hooking his elbows around them. Alys had stopped grumbling and simply gazed at Gendry. Smiling at her, Gendry made a poor attempt at pulling a face, which amused Brienne, but not the baby.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that… well, you weren’t in the courtyard, and after what happened with Lord Tyrion, I thought you might have been upset.”

 

Brienne sighed and averted her gaze to the horizon, “I am going to be frank, I was angry my Lord, it is his niece’s day today and he went and got drunk enough that he pissed himself! Why? Why would he do that? He adores Alys and I hope he’s ashamed.”

 

Gendry nodded, clasping and unclasping his hands as he pondered what to say, “I was with him before the ceremony, we were in a tavern and he had drunk quite a lot, in celebration at first, I think, and then… well…”

 

“Jaime.” Brienne said, her heart clenching, it wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of Jaime all through the ceremony, it was that she never stopped thinking of Jaime, especially whenever she looked at, bathed, fed, rocked, or held Alys. Her gaze dropped to her daughter, who was gazing back at her; a little fist had wriggled loose of the shawl and was reaching up to grasp her mother’s chin.

 

“Yes, Jaime came up in the conversation, it made Tyrion morose, that was when I suggested we stop drinking, but then we separated once we got back to the castle and well…”

 

“He probably went and drank more. When he’s sober I will have words.”

 

“Take care with him Ser Brienne, I know that you have had a tough time of it, but so has he.” Gendry reached over and squeezed Brienne’s shoulder.

 

Brienne nodded, “I will.”

 

Gendry and Brienne both sat for a time and pondered. Gendry kept on glancing at Alys, every time hinting a smile, every time seeming on the verge of saying something. Brienne shifted the babe in her arms so that Gendry could see her clearer, “would you like to hold her my Lord?”

 

“Oh! Can I? I mean, I have never held a baby before, but, I would be honoured.”

 

“I had never held a baby before, not really, before Alys, other than my younger sisters, but I was young myself… it’s easier than you think. Just make sure you support her head.”

 

Brienne shifted Alys into Gendry’s arms and tried not to laugh as she spied the terrified look on his face. Once the babe was settled Gendry marvelled at the weight of the child, the way that she didn’t cry being put in a stranger’s arms, the way that she cooed at him and her mother.

 

“I have a present for you little Lady,” Gendry murmured. “Your Uncle laughed when I told him, but I have a feeling it is the perfect present for you.”

 

Brienne looked intrigued.

 

Gendry tried not to flush in embarrassment, “a sword Ser Brienne, I made Lady Alys as sword.”

 

Brienne smiled and felt her heart soar, “thank you my Lord, a present to be treasured… you are a fine man Lord Baratheon, and a kind one, thank you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for your lovely comments, I am so glad that you are enjoying this story that is ending up way bigger than I ever thought it would... I still can't see the end in sight yet... but next chapter will be a Jaime chapter, and that means we are inching ever closer to a Jaime reveal - yay!! Cause seriously, unless he flees to Essos he is going to be found out, he's too famous in Westeros! In the meantime, enjoy this chapter, Brienne gets back to what she really loves, and Pod is adorable Pod.

 

 

 

It was the morning after the party and Brienne had arrived at Tyrion’s chamber door. She knew that words had to spoken, unpleasant words, but the air needed to be cleared between them. With determination she rapped her knuckles on the door. A weak ‘come in’ came from within. Carefully Brienne pushed open the door and quietly closed it behind her. Turning she saw Tyrion, he was seated by a low fire, a pitcher of water and two goblets sat on the table in front of him, and he was hiding his face in his hands.

 

“Lord Tyrion?”

 

Tyrion groaned and briefly looked through his fingers at his guest.

 

Brienne took the chair opposite him and poured him some water from the pitcher, “here, drink some water, would you like me to call for some food?”

 

“Ohhhhhh no, no, no food thank you… Brienne… I’m-“

 

“I know you are sorry, but it doesn’t excuse what you did Tyrion, what were you thinking?”

 

Tyrion felt bile rise in his throat, he had been thinking of Jaime, he had wanted to numb the sadness he felt at what had happened to his fucked up brother and his fucked up family. Alys was a fresh start for the Lannister’s, an opportunity to lead a new generation who wouldn’t be consumed by power and manipulation, but it hurt to much to think of the before and yesterday the pain had tainted the future. Lowering his hands, Tyrion reached for the goblet and took a tentative sip of the cool liquid, he looked haggard, eyes bleary, and skin grey.

 

As it seemed like Tyrion had given up on speaking, Brienne took the opportunity to vent, “I spoke to Gendry and he told me you were upset about Jaime… but it was Alys’ day, do you understand?”

 

Brienne wiped at her eyes as tears formed, “I wanted Jaime there as much as you, if not more, but he’s not, he’s dead and we have to just go on, and I choose to go on for Alys. She needs both of us, I want you in her life because you are her family too, but I can’t have you getting drunk and pissing your pants on her naming day each year, imagine when she is older, when she is presented at court, what happens then Tyrion?”

 

Tyrion hung his head in shame, he knew that Brienne was right, “you are right, my sister.”

 

Brienne started at him calling her sister. She blinked multiple times before uttering, “I’m NOT your sister.”

 

“But you would’ve been, can you deny it? Jaime would’ve married you, if he had stayed with you in Winterfell, if he had lived, he would’ve married you and you would be my sister. A sister that I would choose.”

 

All colour left Brienne’s face and she stood so quickly that Tyrion crunched his neck looking up at her. Reaching out a hand he gestured for her to sit down again, but her gaze was directed out the window, her hands were shaking.

 

“Brienne, Brienne, sit down, please, I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

 

His words were like wind, the turmoil Brienne felt was not new, she had felt this intensity of feeling from the moment Jaime had showed up at her door in Winterfell ten months ago. Love and fear, and now grief, so intermingled that she didn’t know if she could survive it; the longing would always be there and sometimes all she wanted was to escape it. Eventually she glanced at Tyrion, “sometimes I want to go back to who I was before, to not feel… I thought my grief for Renly was true… it was true, I did love him, but out of gratitude, not this, not what I feel for Jaime. Don’t get me wrong, I felt gratitude to Jaime too, he knighted me, he believed in me when no-one else did. But…”

 

“Jaime was complicated and having a relationship with him was always going to be complicated.”

 

“Yes,” Brienne nodded through tears. “But I feel like I knew him, I knew him, better than he knew himself.”

 

“Do you doubt that he would’ve married you?”

 

“Yes! Because marriage wasn’t what love was to him.”

 

“I agree,” Tyrion took another sip of water. “He saw so many bad marriages, and for most of his life the woman he loved he couldn’t marry, but I think, no, I believe that he would’ve given that to you and most especially to Alys, a family, a true family.”

 

Brienne blew her cheeks out, “I need to spar.”

 

Tyrion laughed too hard, his head shot with pain, he leaned his head on the back of the chair and sighed. “Can you not? I am sure that Pod would be up for a bit of sword play.”

 

Brienne groaned at Tyrion’s pun, “I am not sure if I am allowed to yet.”

 

“Allowed to?”

 

Brienne blushed, “well, since having Alys, Maester Bayle said that I should take it easy, no sparring, no horse riding, nothing…”

 

Tyrion nodded, “and how do you feel?”

 

“Oh I feel fine, I mean-“ Brienne blushed even harder, especially when she remembered Jaime asking her how she felt after their first night together - _They were laying next to each other, shoulders touching, Brienne was picking at the edge of her thumb nail, not sure what to say or do. She could feel Jaime staring at her, could feel the huff of breath as he let out a little chuckle, he raised his left hand and grabbed her hands to stop her picking. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I just wanted to know if you were okay? I wouldn’t be a true Knight if I didn’t.” Brienne had looked at him quickly and blurted, “oh but you are a true Knight Jaime!” He simply asked again, “how do you feel?” She smiled shyly at him, “I feel happy.” Cocking his head at her he raised an eyebrow. “And I am a little sore, but not really…” she whispered. Jaime rolled on top of her. "Good,” he whispered back before he kissed her._

 

Tyrion gently eased himself off his chair and walked over to the chamber door. ‘Well Ser Brienne, I think you should go find Pod and spar, fuck the Maester! But do leave soon please as I need to use the chamber pot rather urgently.”

 

Brienne leapt from her seat and vacated the room immediately.

 

—

 

Brienne dragged a reluctant Pod down to the armoury. She had taken Tyrion up on his advice and had decided that she would go and spar. She needed to let of some steam and the best way was to fight a good, long, challenging fight. Pod had his own opinions about it all and kept on telling her she should check with the Maester. She told him she appreciated his concern, but she felt absolutely fine and that Maester Bayle was an overcautious bore who had no understanding how fighting for her was like the air he needed to breathe. And so there they were putting on some padding and minimal armour and picking up a sparring sword each.

 

Brienne marched out onto the training grounds and spun the sword in her hand. Joy and excitement ran up her spine, it had been way to long since she had sparred, in fact the last time had been in Winterfell, with Pod, a couple of days before they left for King’s Landing. She turned to Pod, taking note that he was already in defence mode, she tried not to grin too much, even in her _weakened_ state he was afraid of her.

 

The sky above was a beautiful deep blue, with the occasional cloud scudding past, a light breeze ruffled both Pod’s and Brienne’s hair. It was quiet until Brienne slowly turned, arcing the sword in slow motion towards Pod, before she suddenly turned again, quicker this time, and slashed at her opponent. The clashing sound of metal on metal rang out across the grounds. Pod took a defensive step backwards and grinned at his Lady. Brienne simply wanted to laugh. She hadn’t felt this physically alive for a very long time. Even the birth of Alys couldn’t compare to the thrill of fighting. Her momentary distraction allowed Pod to take a half step forward and swing his own sword towards her chest. Brienne parried the thrust, leaning in to the swords, causing Pod to stumble backwards. The swords sprang apart as Brienne eased back, they were only having a friendly spar, but if it had been a proper fight against an enemy she would have pushed on, taking advantage of her opponents stumble, and probably slice them through the belly.

 

“Good attack Ser Brienne!”

 

“Don’t patronise me Pod,” Brienne rolled her eyes. “It was slow and clumsy, and if that was your best defence then I worry for the future of your career here on Tarth.”

 

Pod grimaced and blushed, “of course my Lady, Ser Brienne, I mean I-“

 

“Pod! I’m joking, your future here is secure, I assure you… but really, don’t take it easy on me just because I’ve been out of the game for awhile.”

 

“Alright Ser,” Pod smiled as he took up a defensive position again. Brienne dropped her shoulders and rolled her eyes again.

 

“Pod! Attack - ATTACK!!”

 

“Alright SER!”

 

Pod raised his sword and ran forward, gripping the hilt with two hands and slashing high. Brienne went into defensive mode, stepping sideways in an attempt to avoid the hit, raising her sword quickly to counteract the attack. Again the swords met. With the clang of metal ringing out, Pod held the advantage this time, his run giving him enough momentum to push Brienne towards the side of the ring. Brienne’s foot slipped in some mud. Holding her sword out with her right arm, her left hand made contact with the dirt as she fell, she grunted in pain at the shock of the fall. Pod immediately dropped his sword and sprang forward.

 

“Ser, Ser, are you okay?”

 

Brienne also dropped her sword and rubbed her left wrist. It hurt and was already starting to swell. Sighing she gestured for Pod to help her up. “I think it might be a sprain - I haven’t sprained anything in years.”

 

“Let me take you to the Maester.” Pod held her arm until she shook him off in annoyance.

 

“I’ll be fine Pod.”

 

“Please Ser, please let the Maester check your wrist.”

 

Brienne sighed, she knew she wouldn’t get Pod off her back if she didn’t get Maester Bayle to have a look, she knew Pod will probably feel guilty over this for many many months. “Pod it’s not your fault you know.”

 

“I know,” he grumbled as he directed her towards the Armoury. Once inside he told one of the soldiers in training to go collect the sparring swords and put them away. The young lad’s eyes were huge as he took in his Lady holding her obviously sprained wrist and the famous Ser Payne barking orders at him. Nodding he disappeared out towards the training yards.

 

As they approached the Maester’s door in the castle Brienne hesitated. Pod looked at her and shook his head, “Ser, please!”

 

“Alright, alright,” Brienne sighed and knocked on the door. Only a moment later the door opened and Maester Bayle smiled. His smiled dropped as his eyes slid down to see Brienne gently nursing her badly swollen wrist. It was then that he also took in the padding and armour she was wearing.

 

“You’d better come in,” Maester Bayle said as he stepped aside and waved them into the room. Brienne sauntered in, head held high, she was the Lady of Tarth, she would not be treated as a disobedient child by the Maester. Pod scuttled in behind her, guilt lay over him like a cloak, his hands wringing.

 

“What happened?”

 

“We were sparring and I slipped and sprained my wrist.” Brienne told him plainly. Maester Bayle grabbed some bandages and ointment, placing them beside Brienne on the bed she sat on. He took her wrist first and poked and prodded at it. Brienne hissed in pain and tried to pull away.

 

“Really my Lady, you have given birth to a babe, surely a sprained wrist should be nothing compared to that!” Maester Bayle spoke with a clipped tone. Brienne wanted to cuff him over the head.

 

“Both hurt, in their own ways, this is more immediate.” Brienne bit her lip as the Maester took the White Willow Bark ointment and applied it liberally.

 

“Yes, more immediate,” Maester Bayle mumbled. “Why were you sparring my Lady? You are only a month from birthing, you should still be resting.”

 

“I felt fine,” Brienne gritted her teeth. The ointment on, Maester Bayle was now bandaging the wrist, wrapping it tight to help prevent the swelling becoming worse.

 

“Obviously you are still weak and unsteady, and how are you to look after the babe now? Hmmmm? With an injured wrist you will struggle with caring for her.”

 

“I can still care for my child,” stated Brienne. She had known he would argue with her about Alys, but everything she needed to to for Alys she would still be able to do. If there were some things she struggled with she would have Myrtle or Dyana to help.

 

“It was my fault Maester, I should’ve stopped her, I should’ve said no!” Pod finally piped up.

 

Maester Bayle turned to him with a glare, “yes, you should have said no, you should’ve bought her here, I would’ve talked sense into her.”

 

“Sense into me?!?” Brienne felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I don’t need sense talked into me, I need you to be a good Maester and fix my wrist and never tell me what to do ever again!”

 

Maester Bayle had the good sense to look chastened by her dressing down. He nodded as he packed away the rest of the bandages and ointment. “I apologise my Lady, you must know that I only have your health and wellbeing in mind."

 

“Maester Bayle, I need you to understand that fighting for me is important- it is more than important, it is my life. I’m not playing at being a Knight, I am a Knight, and therefore I need to train and spar and fight. I knew that Pod would be gentle with me, and I admit, I did encourage him not to be, but I know my body and I feel fine- well, except now my wrist is sprained.... As much as it pains me to say it, I will be the Evenstar one day, I need to command a certain level of respect from people, and as a woman it is going to be harder for me to do this. I would like to think that I have your respect, not just as the Lady of Tarth and a mother, but also as a Knight and your future leader.”

 

Maester Bayle bowed his head, “you are right, and I do respect you my Lady… Ser Brienne. Perhaps I didn’t consider the whole of your situation before… but please my Lady, you cannot spar with that sprain, give it at least a sen-night and I will look at it again. If it is still swollen tomorrow come back for some more White Willow Bark ointment.”

 

Brienne nodded, stood, and made her way to the door. “Pod I need to check on Alys, do go and make sure that young lad you scared in the armoury earlier is alright… quite impressive command voice Pod.”

 

Pod grinned.

 

—

 

That night at dinner Brienne’s sprained wrist caused a sensation. Lord Selwyn had frowned at her foolhardiness, Tyrion had grinned and winked at her, causing her to flush and grin back, Gendry had asked her in-depth about her sparring session. The Ladies of Evenfall Hall had looked upon her horrified and some of the Lords and Knights that weren’t as enlightened as Lord Selwyn had sneered and laughed at their Lady. It had been a relief when Brienne had finally been able to leave the Great Hall and make her way back to the peace of her rooms and Alys.

 

After a bath, and dressing in her bed tunic, Brienne had sat by the fire to nurse her babe, and with Alys firmly attached to her breast she had allowed her mind to wander where it always did when she had a moment spare. _Jaime._ She shuddered slightly and Alys grunted in protest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry my love,” Brienne murmured, stroking her daughter’s head. It had felt good to spar, even if it had only been for a moment, before she sprained her wrist. Jaime had been right, nothing made you feel more alive than a good fight, though he had also shown her that a good fuck was also as good, though Brienne would argue it was better. Brienne remembered the last time they had sparred.

 

_Jaime had been upset after Sansa’s comments about Cersei execution, Brienne had seen it immediately in his eyes, though he hid it well by schooling his face into a look of indifference. She took him to the armoury and insisted that they get the tension out of the air with a good fight. He had smiled at her then, but it was a half smile, it didn’t reach his eyes, and it scared her. The past month had been like a fairytale, like a story from song, a dream from which she hoped never to wake, but underlying this joy was a fear that Jaime wasn’t hers to keep. Cersei was like a shadow that flickered on the walls, following him, following them, everywhere. Until Cersei was dead she would always haunt Jaime, she would always haunt Brienne, they could never live a truly peaceful life together. Brienne tossed a sparring sword to Jaime and he caught it effortlessly with his left hand. They had been working hard on getting his skills up, he knew he wasn’t the fighter he used to be, but he had proven himself in the long night, and so Brienne had insisted that he could be as good as he had been before. This belief she had in him had always astounded him. They wandered out into one of the training grounds and tapped swords. Back and forth they went, first Brienne took a defensive stance and Jaime attacked, then Brienne would drive forward, forcing Jaime onto the back foot. Their fight went on for nearly an hour, both were covered in sweat, but Brienne could see it was having the desired effect on Jaime. All tension had left his face, his shoulders were loose, and he was completely absorbed in the moment. Suddenly Jaime crashed into her, their swords sliding up to the hilts, Brienne pushed back. The change in balance made Jaime swipe with his leg behind her knees causing Brienne to fall. He fell on top of her. Both were laughing. With their swords forgotten in the muddy snow, Jaime looked down at her, brushing her curls off her forehead. She could feel his arousal through both of their breeches; it still amazed her that she could make him hard, that he wanted her in every single way. “I love you,” he whispered before kissing her softly._

 

Alys snuffled as she popped off Brienne’s breast, her eyes were sleepy, and she yawned widely.

 

Brienne brushed Alys’ hair off her forehead, “I love you.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you're comments again, thank you everyone... two particular comments, from ginar369 and CoreWorlds, I loved loved loved particularly, because yes Brienne is strong and hard core and she deserves to be living her best life - whilst still grieving Jaime. I hated after Ep4 on S8 when so many thought Brienne was weak for crying when Jaime left, she's not weak, in fact more power to her for being a strong woman who isn't afraid to be emotional and let it all out. Why do we still equate being emotional and crying about something or someone that matters to us with weakness? Anyway, this chapter is all Jaime hearing about the latest from King's Landing... and will Elayne convince him to return to Tyrion and Brienne?

 

 

 

The sun was just dipping below the mountains to the west, casting a beautiful warm glow over the early spring flowers that were now determined to grow through the hard, cold soil. Everyone had been commenting that the expected long winter, that was to last decades, was a complete washout. Jaime had his ideas on this, the winter was obviously brought south of the Wall by the White Walkers and the Knight King, and now that they were no more, perhaps they would all be lucky and never have to endure a winter for a very long time. As the weather had been warming up, a lot more people had been passing by the tavern, either on their way to or from King’s Landing. With the Capital being rebuilt there was a significant amount of trade to be had. Carpenters and wheelwrights, armourers and blacksmiths, farmers and fisherman, everyone was making good business in King’s Landing. For Jaime, working at the Tavern, it meant that he had to be extremely careful about people recognising him. It took him a good month to get used to responding to his “new” name of Jacob. He had grown his beard out further, to the disgust of Elayne, and his hair had continued darkening to a dirty blonde. He was a lot leaner as well, it had been nearly a year since he had last held a sword; in fact the talk in the Tavern was all about the plans for a memorial in a month's time to remember the citizens and soldiers of King’s Landing who had died during the attack by the Dragon Queen. It was hard to believe it had almost been a year. All this talk made Jaime feel sick. He had to bite his tongue. He had to pretend, pretend that it didn’t mean anything to him, pretend that he hadn’t been there at the end of the Lannister reign, pretend that he hadn’t had his soul ripped to shreds by the actual and metaphorical loss of those he cared for most.

 

It was the gossip around Tyrion, Bran, and the small council that interested him the most. Though it concerned him that he never heard anything about Brienne. If there was anyone who deserved to be the new King’s Guard Commander it was her, and from what he could gather the new Lord Commander was a nobody, from nowhere, called Harly. Every evening, as he stood by the door and made sure that the peace was kept, he would hone in on the conversations. That particular night he had noticed that a farmer, by the name of Gwent, had arrived for a drink. Gwent was one of the biggest cattle farmers around Duskendale and hence one of the main local suppliers of beef to the King’s household. Always laden with juicy gossip from his connections, Gwent had only to grease his lips with one or two beers before he would let loose about the latest Royal news. Jaime shifted over to the window closest to Gwent’s table, on the pretence that he was observing something of importance on the south side of the Tavern. Gwent had his usual cronies around him, locals who weren’t able to get to the Capital, hanger-ons who hoped they could get work from Gwent, bloated friends of Gwent’s who only wanted to sponge off him for free beer. As usual, Gwent ordered a round of beers for his table, “at his cost,” and started in on the latest news.

 

“So, what’s the latest from the city of the three eyed fucker?”

 

The others around the table chortled and then cheered as Bessie arrived with a tray full of beers. Once Bessie had placed the mugs down one of the men grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, reaching around to grope her breasts, she wriggled to get away, but it only made him hold on tighter. Jaime was close enough to catch the man’s eye and shake his head in warning. The man sneered back before releasing the Bessie; Bessie nodded her thanks to Jaime and headed back to the bar. Since working at the Dayns Tavern, Jaime had taken the time to get to know the family that ran it, including Bessie and Joly, Joly being the one who had offered herself to him on his first visits. She had offered herself again to him since he had started to work for them, multiple times, and every time he rebuffed her, she got an even more determined look in her eye. Every time he raised the issue with Joly’s father, Carlon would just laugh and wave it off, mentioning something about a “silly girl… I need to get her married, you couldn’t do better Jacob.”

 

“Three eyed fucker?!? Gwent I thought the king was an automaton? Can’t stand and _can’t stand_ if you get my drift.”

 

“Ahhhhh you dirty fucker!” Gwent chortled. Laughter roared around the table.

 

Gwent took a mouthful of beer, and then spluttered, “you’re right though… he has no interest in taking a Queen, no interest in any maids- or lads either, yeeeeeah… The way the small council speaks, when King Bran the Cripple is dead, they’ll simply vote for a new King!”

 

“Ha! Does that mean I can be King?” shouted Spickle, a vile man by any stretch of the imagination, Jaime detested him because he knew he was a dirty dealer and a raper. Despite having saved a young girl from Spickle a month ago, the local Magistrate had not charged him, in fact he had let the slimy rat go with a few coins exchanged and a pat on the back. There may be a new order of things in the Capital, but Jaime recognised, for the small folk, life went on, cheating and thieving, manipulations and pay-offs were just as rife as always.

 

“Lord, what would the world be like if you were a King, Spickle?”

 

“Ahhhhhh my lads, we would rise up and take down the noble cunts, take over their castles, take their women, take their gold, and make them fuckers do all the dirty work!”

 

Again the table roared with laughter. Jaime rolled his eyes and turned his head closer so that he could hear them better. 

 

“That interloper, _Lord Bronn of Highgarden_ , he’s getting married to some simpering maid from the Stormlands.” Gwent sent a knowing look around the table.

 

“That sell sword, if he can rise up, why can’t we?” Spickle shouted as he swung his mug across the table. Droplets of beer spun outwards, dotting his neighbours, and causing them to laugh even harder.

 

“Ahhhh but he had an in with those Lannister’s, corruption is a beast, but a worthwhile one at that!”

 

“So who’s the Lady? Do tell us? Not Lady Codswallop from Somewhere Land-“

 

“What are you about Jono?”

 

“You know, the one with the tiny waist and the massive tits? She toured here a few years back, heard she was good at cock sucking!”

 

“I KNOW WHICH ONE YOU MEAN!” Gwent was going red in the face with laughter, “AND YOUR RIGHT, IT IS LADY CODSWALLOP!”

 

Jaime grimaced as they all roared with laughter again. He knew who they meant, Lady Sophy from Storm’s End, she was the eldest daughter of a minor Lord. A sweet thing who had only had eyes for Lord Elwyn, another minor Lord of the Stormlands. Lord Elwyn had died of a fever two years beforehand, if Jaime remembered correctly; and Lady Sophy did have big breasts, pendular breasts, that no dress seemed to be able to contain. _Well, that will be Bronn happy for the rest of his life, he can bury himself in them_ , Jaime tried to contain his laugh. What he heard next made his blood run cold.

 

“What about that large bitch from Tarth? Heard a rumour she was bedding the Lannister Imp!” Jono shouted across the table.

 

Gwent grinned, but shook his head, “that would make her a right old tart wouldn't it, I heard from a Northern soldier that she fucked the Kingslayer in Winterfell before he took off to die with his cunt of Queen sister. And now you hear that she’s fucking the younger Lannister? I do know the Imp has made multiple trips to Tarth- perhaps those rumours are true… but I heard the new Lord Baratheon- another upstart becoming a Lord, well I heard that he was courting the Lady Knight, made her a sword and everything!”

 

“She’ll have had every _sword_ in the Stormland’s at the rate she’s going!” Spickle laughed loudly, slapping his neighbour on the back, “we need to get to Tarth my brother, and have us some of that- wonder what she’s like down there!”

 

Jaime felt anger prickle down his spine, how dare they speak of Brienne so, _she is everything that is pure and good in this world and they speak of her as though she is some common whore,_ he gripped the hilt of his sword and glanced at the bar. Carlon and his daughters were busy making up new trays of beer and food to take out to the punters. Would they notice if he took his sword out and ran half a dozen men through? _There my job would go, my cover would be blown, and then what would be the point of all of this anyway_.

 

“But you know what the biggest rumour I heard about the Tarth bitch?” Jono leant in conspiratorially. 

 

Everyone leaned in to hear, including Jaime.

 

“I heard that she carried a bas-“

 

“JACOB!!”

 

Jaime jumped and turned around to see Carlon looming over him. His eyes darted between his boss and the rats that were gossiping like a bunch of old wives. He had missed what they were saying about Brienne and it worried him to no end. What was it about Brienne, what had she carried, he was desperate to know.

 

“I’ve been calling you for ages Jacob, wakey wakey, you have a job to do, and see over there,” Carlon turned and pointed towards the door where a number of men appeared to be planning to leave without paying for their beer. “Please make sure they pay before they leave!”

 

Jaime nodded, gripped his sword again, and made his way to keep the peace.

 

—

 

It was late by the time Jaime got back to Elayne and Olivar’s house. He pushed open the front door and stepped quietly inside. The house was quiet, but in the far corner of the room, next to the fire place, a candle was lit and Elayne was seated there darning some socks.

 

"I didn't expect anyone to be up," Jaime murmured as he sat in the chair opposite Elayne.

 

"It's been a trying evening, Christor had an argument with Olivar, which then meant Christor ran away, again…” Elaine sighed and rested her darning in her lap. “I don’t know what to do with Christor, he’s a troubled lad, I get the impression he was troubled before the strife of King’s Landing… he never speaks of any family or friends…”

 

Jaime nodded, “he has nightmares too, many a night I am woken by his cries.”

 

“When you’re not woken by yours?”

 

Jaime huffed, “I don’t have as many nightmares anymore… I think, I feel settled here- I know I cannot always press upon you and Olivar for a home, but I feel more at peace here then I think I ever have.”

 

“We are a peaceful people Jaime, I think that is the difference between what you have now and what you had… that and I believe your biggest demon no longer haunts you.” Elayne surreptitiously glanced his way. He was frowning, his hand gripping his knee, he didn’t appear very peaceful.

 

“At the tavern tonight that farmer, Gwent, was there again.” Jaime barked out.

 

“Oh? Any news from the capital?” Elayne tried to bite her smile. She had heard all about Gwent the past couple of months, about his news and insights from King’s Landing, about Bran, about Bronn, about Tyrion. Never anything about Brienne, but she had surmised with Jaime that she had gone back to Tarth, back to her father.

 

“It was implied that Tyrion was bedding Brienne!” Jaime scrubbed his face with his hand, he looked in pain, in agony with feeling.

Elayne scoffed, “Surely that is just a joke, a rumour?”

 

Jaime nodded, “a rumour, apparently… but then Gwent himself implied that she was fucking the new Lord Baratheon! That he was courting her, that they would be married! Apparently he made a sword for her - A SWORD!! She already has a sword that is worthy of her skill and her goodness.”

 

“Jaime you know that these men are full of it, that they love to make up unsubstantiated rumours about the Lords and Ladies of this land, you know better than to believe what they say… besides, would it be so bad that Brienne had found a new love?”

 

Jaime glared at Elayne, “Gendry Waters, or rather Baratheon, is not worthy enough to lick her boots-“

 

“Now Jaime, don’t be silly, I have heard lovely things about the legitimised Lord-“

 

“And besides that he and the youngest Stark girl had a thing-“

 

“A thing?”

 

“He was besotted with her… and besides that, I am fairly certain, that he is younger than Brienne.”

 

Elayne rolled her eyes, “and that matters not, my sister is three years older than her husband and all the more better for it, she was too serious a woman and he to flighty, together they have balanced each other out.”

 

“So you want Brienne to marry _Lord Baratheon_ and balance him out?!?” Jaime yelped.

 

“Jaime hush your voice, you will wake Olivar and the children… and I didn’t say anything of the sort, you’re the one who is wrapping yourself in knots about a woman who thinks you are dead and you have no intention of letting her know otherwise, if she wants to get married be happy for her!” Elayne hissed, shoving her darning back into the basked beside her chair. She had had enough of Jaime’s tantrum about Brienne and her supposed suitors. “If your that worried about her being betrothed to someone else, than perhaps it is time to reveal yourself Lord Lannister.”

 

Jaime sat back as though he had just been slapped in the face, “I can’t.”

 

Elayne sighed as she stood. She looked down at this man that she had saved from the destruction of King’s Landing, a man she had only known about through legend and hearsay, but had come to admire and respect, and even love as friend. Throughout the many months of Jaime being with them he had proven himself a man of value, someone who had had to learn from a young age to navigate the moral complexities of the world, moral complexities that had perhaps caused irreparable damage to his self esteem and confidence. During his time with them Jaime had come to confide in Elayne like no other, not even Brienne, he had told her about the hidden secrets of his and Cersei’s relationship, about how Cersei had crushed his very identity to re-carve it as her own. He had told her about Tyrion and their father and the way that he had protected his brother from immense cruelty from supposed loved ones. He told her about how he had realised in Winterfell that he had been in love with Brienne for a long time, that his admiration and respect for her, his gratitude towards her, had culminated in a love sweeter than anything he had ever experienced before. Elayne had read between the lines with that comment, knowing he meant the relationship he had had with Cersei. Jaime spoke of the revelation at Winterfell, an understanding within himself that he had long held an attraction to Brienne, that her physical strength aroused him, that her blue eyes made his heart leap, that her hands, though large, were slender and long, with fingertips so soft- At that point Elayne had stopped him and assured him she understood, he was physically attracted to Brienne. The man was complex, but a lot of the complex elements of his life had been erased with the death of his sister and the destruction of a city, she simply couldn’t understand why he couldn’t go back to his brother and his lover.

 

“Jaime, you know my thoughts on this, you know that I think you should go back, if Brienne and Tyrion love you as I suspect they do, they would be nothing but thrilled to have you returned to them. I am going to bed, but please, please think on it Jaime, you are not a bad man, I suspect you are a very good man who has just made some very bad decisions. Try and make the right one this time.”

 

Elayne left the room leaving Jaime sitting stunned and grief stricken. The longing for Brienne and Tyrion was always there, they were his true family, the only two that really understood him. Was it not better that he stayed out of their lives, let them live on, most likely happier without him, or should he go back, should he reveal himself and return to those that he loved most in this world. He let his head fall onto the back of the chair, distress in his heart, and confusion in his head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, I hadn't intended to write this chapter at this point and in this way. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. Most of it is from Bronn's point of view, and ... well, I think we are a step closer to Jaime coming home... maybe, possibly... read on to find out.

 

 

 

Tyrion sat uncomfortably on the new throne of the six Kingdoms. It was a wooden thing, heavy, stout, and hard. Intricate carvings of plants and animals wound their way over the arms and legs, and on the back of the chair a flock of crows were carved, all with three eyes. A flock of crows… Bronn joked that it represented King Brandon’s ability to see all that was happening right now, that they didn’t really need a Spy Master, the crows were the spies. Tyrion thought Bronn wasn’t far from the truth. On the small council every other position had been filled thus far, but King Brandon kept on delaying the appointing of the Spy Master, he excuse was that the right person had yet to come.

 

Tyrion wriggled around trying to get more comfortable as he awaited the next petitioner. It was the one day of the week that he absolutely hated, but it was a job that King Brandon refused to do, he felt that Tyrion would do a better job of handling the day to day running of the kindgoms. To listen to the whining complaints and petty squabbles that came to him from the common folk was tedious. _My Lord he stole my bread/money/cart/horse/wife,_ were the most frequent issues he had to deal with, and they all bored him. Why couldn’t these people figure out the solution themselves. Gripping the arm rests, Tyrion raised himself up a little, to ease some of the pressure on his buttocks. Someone cleared their throat and he looked up as he dropped himself back into his seat.

 

Gwent, one of the beef suppliers to the royal household, stood before him. “Ahhhh Gwent, yes, how are you?”

 

Gwent doffed his cap and bowed slightly, “I am fine my Lord, as I hope that you are.”

 

Tyrion waved his hand, “yes, yes, I am fine, thank you. How can I help you today?”

 

“I wish to put in a complaint about the payment of a debt from a tavern. They have received beef from me for the past six months, they know I only sell superior beef, because of my being a royal household supplier, but they haven’t paid me yet, despite fair warning.”

 

Tyrion frowned, “we aren’t purchasing all of your beef? We pay you enough money to warrant all of your produce being ours.”

 

Gwent’s eyes widened and he glanced at his son, “my Lord, we supply the absolute best of our beef to the royal household, but our Lord Asken, who we serve most graciously, does ask us to hold some back for his own household and any other local businesses that are willing to pay top coin.”

 

“Oh,” Tyrion pursed his lips. “Lord Asken of Duskendale is a good man and would not try to cheat the crown… why are you here petitioning for payment from this tavern then, and not Lord Asken himself?”

 

Tyrion noticed a flicker of panic on Gwent’s face. Tyrion had the right of the situation, Gwent did hold beef back for Lord Asken, as was Lord Asken’s right to ask, but Gwent was holding beef back for himself, to sell for his own gain to local taverns.

 

“Um, my Lord, I-“

 

“Gwent, my good sir, I know what you are doing… and perhaps it is fair that you try to gain some profit for yourself, we are all but only men and have a desire to better our situations in life, am I correct?”

 

Gwent nodded nervously.

 

“I will send a man to look into it, but you must promise me that any profit to be gained from the arrangement with the tavern must be fairly split with your Lord.”

 

“Of course, of course Lord Tyrion, you have made an honest man out of me, I will tell Lord Asken immediately.”

 

“I am fairly certain I haven’t made an honest man out of you Gwent, but as long as you are honest with the royal household and Lord Asken’s household, I don’t really care who you rip off and cheat. What is the name of the tavern?”

 

His face glowing red from embarrassment and anger at having been called out about his dodgy dealings, Gwent replied, “Dayns Tavern my Lord, it is just outside of Duskendale, on the road to Maidenpool.”

 

—

 

Tyrion, Bronn, and Ser Davos sat around the table in the great hall. Their plates were piled high with meat and potatoes, pickled cabbage and overly boiled carrots. Goblets of wine stood next to their plates. Tyrion had been telling them about the most ludicrous problems the commoners had brought to him that day, “oh, the best one was when Hugh, the blacksmith from the southern end of the Street of Steel, complained that… oh my, that HUGH, the blacksmith from the northern end of the Street of Steel had used his- Hugh of the northern end’s- stallion to cover his- Hugh of the southern end’s- mare… I couldn’t think straight, took me at least half an hour to get the semantics right before I could even think of a solution.”

 

Bronn chuckled into his wine, Davos laughed out loud before saying, “ I still don't get what you said, but what was the solution then? Do tell!”

 

“After all his garbled talk about stallions and mares, I finally figured out that northern Hugh’s stallion was actually a prize winning stallion from the annual kingdoms agricultural show, a stallion that had been coveted by many to sire foals. So I told southern Hugh that he should count himself lucky that northern Hugh’s stallion took such a fancy to his nag of a mare, and that he should use the stallion’s credentials to sell the foal for top dollar!”

 

“And what was his response?” Davos choked out, laughter turning his face red.

 

“Well,” Tyrion winked slyly at his companions. “southern Hugh is going to look after that mare like it’s a Queen, and when that foal is born, well, I would place all bets on it becoming the most expensive foal ever put up for sale in the seven- six kingdoms!”

 

Their laughter echoed out across the hall, causing many others to turn towards them with smiles and enquiring looks on their faces. It took them a few moments to settle down, eventually Davos started tucking into his food and Bronn poured himself some more wine. Tyrion got a serious look on his face. “Now Bronn, about your wedding-“

 

“Yeah, what about it? It’s happening, not soon enough for my liking, have you seen the massive tits of my betrothed?” Bronn leered at Davos and Tyrion.

 

Davos nodded thoughtfully, “yes, I am sure most people have, but I have met Lady Sophy and she seems like a fine Lady as well, very kind and gentle.”

 

Bronn scoffed, “very kind and gentle indeed, as long as she is a firebrand in bed!”

 

Tyrion shook his head, “and do you really think that likely Bronn? She is a highborn lady, I doubt she has had any experience at all.”

 

“Oh, she’s had some kind of experience alright, she kisses like a firebrand, and she knew where my cock was when she put her hand down my breeches and-“

 

“Alright, alright, we get the picture Set Bronn.” Davos laughed and stood up. His plate was empty and his goblet still half full, but he had had enough of the bawdy talk. “I’ll be off, I promised Maester Tarly that I would visit with him and his wife after supper.”

 

Bronn and Tyrion nodded their goodbyes and watched as Davos disappeared through the crowded hall.

 

“Why does he spend so much time with the Tarly’s?” Bronn asked, turning back to Tyrion.

 

“I think he sees Sam as a surrogate son,” replied Tyrion, looking a little ashamed. It had been Tyrion’s choices in the Blackwater Battle that had meant Davos had lost his only child. “I am glad for it though, Sam is needing a father figure and Davos a young man to treat as a son. It’s a win win situation if you ask me.”

 

Bronn nodded and filled up both his and Tyrion goblets again. “Bronn, I know that it is very near your wedding, and also the event to mark the one year anniversary of, well, the capital's destruction… but I have a favour to ask you.”

 

“Yes,” said Bronn, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

 

“I have had one of the farmer’s complain today about a tavern not paying it’s bills. He’s a good supplier to the royal household, in fact you have eaten some of his fine beef tonight, but this is a bit sensitive, the tavern isn’t in King’s Landing, and we should really leave the local Lords and magistrates to solve the problem, but he asked it as a special favour, that we look into it.”

 

“And where is this tavern?”

 

“Oh it’s not that far at all, just outside of Duskendale, on the Maidenpool road, you could be there and back again in two days!” Tyrion looked hopefully at Bronn.

 

“Ugh,” Bronn groaned. “I guess, it means a couple of days away from my lady love.”

 

“Who are you kidding Bronn, it means two days away from wedding preparations, a father-in-law who won’t leave you alone, and the chance to have a last hurrah with the whores of Duskendale, what more could you want?”

 

Bronn grinned at Tyrion and slammed his hand on the table, “DEAL!”

 

—

 

A few days later Bronn left bright and early. Tyrion had insisted that he take a pouch of coins for the whores of Duskendale, a move that Tyrion knew would put a pep in Bronn’s step, and ensure that he made it to Duskendale in good time. By early afternoon Bronn had arrived at the little village where the Dayns Tavern was situated. It was a grubby little village, with a few squat, stone houses bordering the Maidenpool road, a few paths led off down towards Dusken Cove, a blacksmith’s stood at one end of the village, and Dayns Tavern the other end. Most people in the village were travellers passing through, but Bronn noticed the smithy was hard at work in his workshop, so he decided to do a little snooping first and pay him a visit.

 

“Hello?” Bronn called as he tied his horse to the hitching rail. The only response was a hiss as the smithy plunged some poker hot iron into water. Bronn glanced carefully around as he stepped through the door into the workshop. “Hello?”

 

The smithy carefully set the steaming iron onto some sand, placed his tools down onto the workbench, removed his scarf from around his nose and mouth, and turned to Bronn, “what the hell do you want?”

 

“Well,” Bronn raised his eyebrows, “I just wanted to see if you could check my horse’s shoe, the back left one, I think it might have buckled on some stone, my horse had been limping the past few miles.”

 

“The past few miles?” the smithy frowned. “Why didn’t you stop in Blyth then, the bigger town a mile back?”

 

“Ahhhhhh, well, I owe a few people money there and if I stopped, well, let’s put it this way, I probably wouldn’t have made it out of Blyth alive,” Bronn grinned sourly at the man, obviously the people in this village weren’t very friendly.

 

“Think you’re a tough man aye? Right, let me have a look then.” The smithy picked up a hoof brush and made his way to Bronn’s gelding. He picked up the back left foot and brushed the mud and stones out of the shoe. A moment later he dropped the hoof and turned to Bronn, “is this a joke? There is nothing wrong with that shoe?”

 

“Really? I could’ve sworn my horse was limping.”

 

“Give over, you’re not here about your horse. Look at your fine and dandy clothes, your some Lord upstart from the capital aren’t you? Never seen you around these parts before… what do you want with our dung of a village?” grumbled the smithy as he took himself back into his workshop.

 

“You’re right, there is nothing wrong with my horse, glad to see your an honest man about it though, I had to check, you see-“

 

“Check to see that I was honest?”

 

“-Yes, you see I’ve been sent, by the small council, on an enquiry about the Dayns Tavern, apparently the owner can’t pay his bills.”

 

“Ah-huh,” the smithy chortled. “You are wanting my opinion on Carlon Dayns then, the owner…”

 

“If you care to give it.”

 

“Carlon Dayns is alright, a bit of a money grabber, I’ve never had any trouble with him, but I know others have… his daughters are a bit of alright too, if you get me meaning, especially Joly!”

 

“What do you mean by ‘others have’?” Bronn ran his fingers over his chin, perhaps the smithy will be useful after all, whether it was information about Dayns or his _friendly_ daughter.

 

“I know some of the farmers have felt a bit cheated by him, he takes their produce and takes an age to pay… but they have simply stopped supplying him now. He used to have some trouble with people not paying for his goods, but he has a new man that takes care of that… a Jacob something or other- don’t know him, he’s not a local. I think Dayns is deeper in stuff then even I am aware…”

 

Bronn nodded, “care to elaborate?”

 

“Well, there’s been a few bodies wash up on some of the beaches, they’re all people who haven’t paid Dayns their dues… and I’m not talking the extremely poor folk, I’m talking about people like the richer cattle and wheat farmers, son’s of theirs and the like. Just washing up on the beach with all their money and clothing gone. I suspect it’s that Jacob, like I said, he’s not from around here, and he has a dead look in his eye… A bit of a rough fella I think, he’s missing a hand, wears a hook, I’ve seen him use that hook on a raper once, slashed him across the back to get the fucker to stop what he was doing to the poor girl.”

 

“A murderer who stops rapists, who works for Dayns… sounds like an interesting man… sounds like someone I’d like to meet- where can I find this Jacob?”

 

“Well, he should be starting work soon, the tavern opens in about an hour, go snoop there, I need to get back to work.”

 

Bronn nodded his thanks and made his way back to his horse.

 

—

 

Bronn had walked into the Dayns Tavern as soon as it had opened. Carlon Dayns, the man himself, had welcomed Bronn inside, had made sure Bronn had a comfortable seat, and in honour of being his first patron of the day, had given him a beer free of charge. Bronn had thanked him gladly for it and settled back in to watch the happenings of the afternoon. It didn’t take long for a number of the regulars to appear; the tavern quickly filled up. Two young lasses appeared and served at the bar, Bronn guessed them to be Dayns' daughters, and he wondered which one was Joly, and if he could convince her of a “tumble in the hay” that evening. Bronn’s ears pricked up when he heard one of the daughter’s mention Jacob.

 

“Father, where is Jacob? He’s never been this late before.”

 

Carlon finished pouring the last beer for a group of punters, placed it on a tray, and sent the other daughter off to deliver the goods. “I had a special job for him today, he’ll be here soon… sweetling, you have to move on from the poor fella, he’s not interested you know.”

 

The young girl pouted, “but he’s sooooo handsome father, and he’s no better than us, he may talk like a Lord, but he’s as poor as a field mouse.”

 

“And the fact that he’s poor makes you want to marry the man?”

 

“The fact that he is handsome makes me want to marry him, he could inherit the tavern-“

 

“Killing me off already love? I’ve still got a good few years in me yet!”

 

“Oh father, I know, but most of the patrons like him, and he keeps the riff riff away, plus father, he is _so handsome_!”

 

Carlon laughed as he made his way into the kitchen to get a portion of cheese and bread for another patron, “you sure know how to pick ‘em Joly!”

 

_Ahhhhh so that one is the infamous Joly_ , Bronn mused as he took a swig of his beer. A pretty thing, he observed, wearing clothes way to small for her, it made her breasts heave and her hips wriggle like nothing else. _And she has a thing for this Jacob, I think it’s time I found out more_ ; he caught Joly’s eye and nodded for her to come over. Joly plastered a smile on her face, pulled the front of her bodice down lower, so much so that Bronn could just see the tops of her nipples, and sauntered over.

 

“Can I help you good sir?”

 

“Yes, yes I think you can,” Bronn smirked back at her and patted his knee for her to sit. She wriggled around the table and perched on his lap. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer; Joly squealed and slung her arms around his neck.

 

“My name is Bronn, what’s yours?”

 

“Don’t be cheeky sir, I saw you listening in on my conversation with my father, you know my name is Joly.”

 

Bronn laughed, she was a smart one, this Joly, “yes, I am a cheeky man. And I think you're a cheeky girl- care to be a bit cheeky together?”

 

Joly nodded enthusiastically and leapt off Bronn’s lap, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out to the stables at the back of the tavern. They tumbled into an empty stall where Joly promptly undid the laces of Bronn’s breeches.

 

“No, no, no, no, no, ladies first!”

 

Bronn pushed her down on some straw and pulled her bodice open. He squeezed her breasts, before pinching each nipple, making Joly thrust her chest towards him, yelping.

 

“What do you like my lady?”

 

“I’m no lady, but can I call you Jacob while we fuck?”

 

“You can call me anything you want!” Bronn murmured as he bent down and sucked a mark just above her right breast. He moved a hand under her skirts and found her wet and ready for him. Quickly, he pulled his breeches down and slid his cock into her, groaning as he did so. Joly wrapped her legs around him and ran her fingers through his greasy hair. As Bronn thrust into her she began to talk.

 

“You know, Jacob has beautiful hair, it is a dark blonde… I am sure it would’ve been golden when he was younger. He has grey bits now, it makes him look very Lord-like and disin… disten… distigish?… ahhhhhhhhhh!”

 

Bronn laughed as he changed the angle, leaning back and gripping her hips so he could thrust deeper, “you mean distinguished, I think.”

 

“Yes… yeah… exactly…. ahhhhhhh, Jaaaaaacob!” Joly’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hands grasped her breasts, and she arched off the ground. As she tightened around, Bronn gave three more short, sharp thrusts, before pulling out and spilling on Joly’s skirt. He collapsed beside her laughing.

 

“Well, my dear, that was short, but spectacular!”

 

Joly rolled over to gaze at him, “I needed that, I've been so horny lately. No matter what I do Jacob never takes me, ha, I once stripped naked and walked into the back room where he was counting out the money for the fisherman, I sat right in front of him and spread my legs, he didn’t even bat an eyelid. Do you want to know what he said?“

 

“Not really, but I suspect you’re gonna to tell me.”

 

“He said, that I was a pretty girl, and he was sure I was very talented in fucking, but that his heart would always belong to another, that as long as she lived he would never be with another woman. I asked him what did she have that I didn’t. He said the strangest thing, he said she had innocence. I’m innocent, I’m only eighteen years old.”

 

Bronn grunted in amusement, “yeah, I’m pretty certain you are not innocent… you say he has golden hair?”

 

Joly nodded and smiled, “or rather he would’ve, but I don’t think he’s been south that long… though he speaks like a southerner. He’s a mystery really, with his roguish look- he has a hook you know, instead of a right hand, he told me a bear bit it off! How heroic is that!”

 

Joly fell back onto her back, clasping her hands together, and gazing dreamily at the ceiling. Bronn felt all the things he’s been told that day fall into place, like a lock on a door tripping open to reveal a potentially awful truth. _Well, the body they found that they thought was Jaime fucking Lannister was so smashed that he had been barely recognisable_ , Bronn frowned, _the corpse was Jaime, the right hand had been missing, the colour of the hair had been right, the height about right…_

 

“How long has this Jacob been working here at Dayns?”

 

Joly had sat up by this point, and was tying her bodice back together, “ummmm, with us? Three and a half months, I think, but he has been coming around a lot longer then that, I first met him, ohhhhhh, maybe, eight months ago.”

 

“Where does he live?”

 

Joly stood and looked down at Bronn, “you seem awfully interested in Jacob, why?”

 

Bronn stood up as well, “he sounds like an interesting fella, that’s all… I’m looking into some things, for the crown you know, and I would like to have a word with this Jacob about… well, something.”

 

Joly burst out laughing, “you work for the crown, you’re a good joker- if you want to speak with Jacob you better hang around… and if your still here later, perhaps we can meet here again? After last orders?”

 

A voice wafted through the stables, a deep voice with a slight sarcastic edge, Bronn knew that voice. Glancing at Joly, he stepped out of the stall and strode to the front of the stables. A man was buckling a horse’s saddle, rather awkwardly, as it appeared the man only had one hand. The hair was longer than it had been in a long time, and even duller then when Bronn had seen it last, the build leaner, though no less strong.

 

“Jacob, you got that horse saddled yet, I need to make the trip to Gwent, he’s been making all sorts of trouble for me with the crown, or that’s what Jakson told me earlier. Someone from the small council has been snooping around.” Carlon came striding out the of the back of the tavern, only stopping when he noticed Bronn standing there, Joly behind him.

 

“There you are Joly, you rat bag, I was going to send Jacob looking for you,” Carlon’s eyes darted between his daughter and Bronn. “Why you little shit, you’ve been fucking my daughter haven’t you!”

 

The man saddling the horse turned around to see what the commotion was about and froze. Bronn’s eyes went wide. The two men simply stood there, both looking like they were seeing ghosts, Bronn supposed he really was.

 

“Jaime fucking Lannister.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter, well, I wasn't sure about this one, it takes a little side journey and solves the mystery of the dead bodies turning up on local beaches... It's definitely Bronn and Jaime centric, and a little step out of the main story (though definitely moves the main story forward). Thank you again everyone for your lovely comments, you guys are stars and inspire me to keep on writing.

 

 

 

“Thanks for getting me fired,” Jaime murmured as he sat on the beach, his left hand fiddled with his hook, a permanent _anxious_ feeling had taken residence in his chest.

 

Bronn was sitting next to him, still in shock himself, his hands clasped across his knees. He smiled wryly at Jaime and shook his head in disbelief. As soon as he had uttered _Jaime fucking Lannister_ , Joly had stepped forward demanding who Jaime Lannister was, at the same time as Carlon went red in the face and looked in horror at Jaime. Things had moved fast then, Carlon had forced Joly back into the Tavern, and had returned to the two men carrying a sword and an axe, Bronn had thought it was a bit of overkill. Carlon had then demanded that both men leave and that if he ever saw them again he would kill them. Bronn and Jaime had believed him and had fled on Bronn’s horse. Jaime had directed him to the beach.

 

“It wasn’t my intention of getting Jaime Lannister fired from his job, you’re meant to be dead, there was a body and everything!” Bronn glanced at Jaime to gauge his reaction. There was non. Jaime just gazed out at the water.

 

“What happened Lannister?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it, in fact, I don’t exist anymore, so why should it matter.”

 

“Er, yes you fucking do, unless that Joly slipped something into my beer and I am now hallucinating… speaking of Joly, geez has she got a thing for you! Obsessed I’d say, I’d keep an eye on her if I were you.”

 

“I hear your getting married?” Jaime promptly changed the subject.

 

“Where’d you hear that?” Bronn looked surprised.

 

“The tavern, it’s on the main road, bound to get a lot of travellers who like to gossip,” replied Jaime. He was starting to shake, an undeniable tremor that shook his limbs, he gripped his shin with his hand to try and stop it.

 

“Jaime,” Bronn couldn’t believe he actually felt sorry for the man sitting next to him, a man who had had so much trauma in his life that it seemed he could hardly keep his life together. For once, Bronn didn’t want to say something sarcastic or mean, he wanted to comfort the man. “Come back to King’s Landing with me, come and see your brother, he’d want to see you.”

 

Jaime swallowed deeply and glanced at Bronn, “I can’t, they, he is better off without me. I… I’m building a life here for myself-“

 

“What? With that bastard Carlon and his overeager daughter, Jaime, that’s no family.”

 

“No, I have, I have people that look, looked after me, I am staying with them, they are good people.”

 

“What about Bri-“

 

“Don’t!” Jaime barked. “Don’t say her name to me. I refuse to talk about her with you.”

 

Bronn sighed. He didn’t know what to do. The fact that Jaime Lannister was alive was valuable information, he had to tell Tyrion, he had to tell someone. But the man was a shell, a husk, someone so devoid of apparent feeling that he couldn’t even get angry at Bronn for suggesting telling Tyrion. Maybe it was better for everyone that he just left the man here to hide, to rot away, never to be heard of or seen again. Bronn knew he couldn’t do that though, he would have to tell Tyrion, the secret would be too much of a burden, even for someone as cynical and corruptible as himself.

 

“I’ll have to tell Tyrion!” Bronn clenched his jaw, he didn’t know how Jaime would respond.

 

“No you don’t.” Jaime hung his head.

 

“I do, and I will, I’m sorry Jaime, but I can’t keep a secret this big.”

 

“What if I paid you?”

 

“Paid me!” Bronn scoffed. “With what you stupid cunt? You have nothing, you have no job, I’m beginning to think that this family you mentioned is made up- where are you living anyway? In one of those caves?”

 

Bron gestured to a series of caves that were clustered further south down the beach. Jaime turned his head and looked, rolling his eyes he turned back to Bronn, it was then that he noticed Elayne making her way towards them, “of course not, the family is real, in fact here comes the Lady of the house now.”

 

Bronn turned to look where Jaime was pointing. They were silent when Elayne got to them. She smiled at Jaime and gave Bronn a curt nod of greeting.

 

“Jaime, who’s your friend?”

 

“He’s not my friend,” Jaime grunted. Elayne looked slightly affronted. Bronn glanced between them both.

 

“My name’s Lord Bronn of High Garden my Lady, I knew Jaime from before the wars, I happened to bump into him at Dayns Tavern.”

 

“He got me fired,” said Jaime.

 

“I heard from Sylys that you got fired… not such a good friend I think.” Elayne winked.

 

“Oy, it’s not my fault… well, it probably is a little bit, but he lied about who he was to them first!” Bronn stood, placing his hands on his hips, and turning with indignation towards Elayne.

 

Elayne didn’t back down, “he did that to protect himself… and my family, if people knew Jaime Lannister wasn’t dead and residing in our house, what do you think would happen to us? Including Jaime!”

 

Bronn threw his hands in the air, “his enemies are all gone, he has nothing to fear coming back to King’s Landing.”

 

“My enemies are all gone? You heard Carlon, if he sees me again he’ll kill me on sight-, “Jaime spat in Bronn’s direction. “It may not be any high born Lords that hate me, but my reputation will always proceed me, these cunts of small folk don’t give a shit if I am a _changed_ man. As far as they are concerned I am the man who fucked my sister and started the wars that caused their lives to be even more shit then they had been before.”

 

“O ho! You think awful highly of yourself Lord Lannister, some, SOME, of these people may threaten you with death, but they actually don’t give a shit if you live or die- but I know a number of people who do care that you live, and that is why I have to tell Tyrion.”

 

Jaime stood, he looked exhausted, dark circles were developing under his eyes, and his pallor was grey, “do whatever the fuck you want Bronn, I’m going for a walk.”

 

Elayne and Bronn stood by as they watched Jaime plod down the beach. Bronn turned back to Elayne and gave her a questioning look. Elayne simply shrugged her shoulders, “it’s not my story to tell, but let me have a few words with him. I think, perhaps, it was fate that you made it to Dayns Tavern today. He is ready to go home, to his proper home, but he resists. Maybe you will be the push he needs to overcome his fears-“

 

“His fears? Cersei’s dead, the dragon Queen is dead, as far as I’m concerned he should have no fear left.”

 

“Not the fear of death or torture, I doubt he has ever had those types of fears, I’m talking of fear in the heart, fear of acceptance, fear of real, solid, unconditional love… Come Lord Bronn, let me take you to my home, you can stay with us tonight. My name is Elayne.”

 

“Jaime?” Bronn asked, looking with concern back at Jaime who was now a dot at the end of the beach.

 

“He hasn’t tried to take his life for many months now, and he told me he would never try again, at least while living with my family, I trust him,” Elayne responded. “He’ll be back in time for supper.” 

 

 

—

 

Jaime had returned for dinner, Elayne had made a lovely pigeon pie, with carrots and potatoes on the side. Olivar brought out his secret stash of Dornish wine - “a gift from a grateful Lord after I saved his life during a hunt” - and the Summer’s children laughed and shouted and brought much merriment to the table. Bronn was wary of the young lad the family had taken in, the same time they had taken in Jaime, Christor. He was a sullen lad, repeatedly kicking the table, and at one point Bronn was convinced the lad had mouthed “you’re a dead fucker” at him.

 

After dinner Elayne had put the children to bed, Christor had disappeared out the front door, and Olivar, Bronn, and Jaime settled in in front of the fire to savour the wine. Though spring was well and truly on its way back, the nights were still bitterly cold, and Olivar had built up the fire until it was roaring like the hellfire belly of a dragon.

 

“So Lord Bronn, you are the new keeper of High Garden, what an honour.” Olivar smiled over his goblet.

 

“Ha, not so much an honour as… a debt paid.” Bronn replied, taking a cheap shot at Jaime. Jaime remained quiet however, staring into his cup.

 

“Sounds like there is a story there?” Olivar asked.

 

“Yes there is, and it involves our good friend here, and his brother, Lord Tyrion.”

 

“Do tell!”

 

“Don’t tell,” Jaime finally wheezed. “Please Bronn, please don’t tell.”

 

“Well, it’s my story to tell don’t you think, I think I will tell it, you don’t have to hang around to hear it,” Bronn, already feeling the effects of the wine, was sick of Jaime’s mood. Back to full sarcastic and cynical strength, Bronn started in on telling Olivar what had happened that freezing night, when he had been sent to kill the brothers by their sister. At the first mention of Cersei, Jaime stood up and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. Elayne had seen what had happened and followed Jaime outside.

 

—

 

Jaime hadn’t walked too far from the cottage, it was still too cold at night to wander away from shelter, the wind had picked up, and speckles of rain started to fall from the sky. The roar of the waves on the beach soothed him. The moment he had seen Bronn he had known the game was up. Bronn was not honest or trustworthy or knightly, unless it suited him to be, and if there was coin involved he could flip sides like one of Cersei’s topsy-turvy dolls from childhood. Jaime didn’t know what to do. Sighing, he sat down on the sand and contemplated his options. He could kill Bronn, that was a permanent solution, until Tyrion sent people to search for the missing Master of Coin, and then Jaime would be found out anyway… plus, was he the type of person to kill Bronn for revealing him? He had killed in Cersei’s name before, to protect who he had loved the most, but this was different. Killing in Cersei’s name had been a selfish act, it was to allow him and his sister to be together, damn anyone else. This, being discovered alive by Bronn, was a decision about selflessness - it would be about protecting those he loved the most from himself.

 

The reasons he had told himself for staying hidden still stood true- he was a bad man, someone who made horrible choices that were rooted in self preservation, choices that always hurt others. Why the Gods had deemed him still worthy of life he had no idea. He had honestly thought, when he left Winterfell, that he was going to his death. That he and Cersei would leave this world as they had come into it- together. It had seemed only right, even though he did not feel that bond to Cersei anymore, even though his love for Brienne was more pure and beautiful than anything he had ever felt for Cersei. But that was what made his choice, to leave Winterfell and to stay hidden, so he would not taint Brienne anymore, he would not ruin Tyrion’s prospects anymore… Pod even flickered into his mind, the young lad who had seemed to look up to him, how could Pod look up to such a disgusting, evil person as Jaime Lannister.

 

He could run away, flee, hop on a trader and go to Pentos, and do what… It had been hard enough to get a job as a handless nobody in Westeros, what would it be like on the other side of the Narrow Sea. It would be nigh on impossible, and what would he live on, where would he live, he would become a gutter rat, a beggar, a piece of dirt that would just fade away into nothing. At least here, with the Summer’s, he felt wanted, he felt needed, and he cared about this family and acknowledged that they cared about him. Could he leave that sense of belonging, could he leave the comfort, both material and emotional, that they provided. He dropped his head into his hand and sighed. It hurt, his heart and head, both were hurting like never before. _Why did Bronn have to come here, why did he have to come to Dayns Tavern._

 

A muffled scream pierced the air. Jaime leapt to his feet and took off down the beach towards the sound of a struggle. Behind him he heard other feet thudding through the sand. It was pitch black, the moon hidden behind thick cloud, Jaime could barely see in front of him.

 

“Stay still cunt!”

 

_That’s Christor’s voice_ , Jaime panicked, he ran harder. Eventually he came across Christor, such a young lad, his baby face looked purple in the deep night. Scratches trickled blood down his cheeks, and his hands clutched at a knife that was protruding from his belly. Elayne was kneeling next to him, blood on her dress, and hands.

 

“What happened?” Jaime fell to his knees next to Christor and eased him onto his back. The lad was shaking so hard that Jaime couldn’t keep a proper hold of him. Olivar and Bronn arrived, Olivar falling beside Elayne and gathering her into his arms.

 

“He, he attacked me,” Elayne stuttered out. “I was looking for you Jaime, I didn’t know where you were, but he, he attacked me.”

 

Jaime looked down at Christor, who now had tears streaming down his face. Christor shouted out, “I didn’a mean ta, I didn’a, ya haft a believe me!”

 

“Bronn help me carry Christor back to the house,” Jaime said, as he stood and went to gather Christor’s legs in his arms. Bronn looped his arms under Christor’s arm pits. Olivar helped Elayne to stand and they slowly made their way back to the cottage.

 

—

 

Jaime sat with Elayne next to the fire, she was still shaking, and clutched a cup of wine like her life depended on it. Olivar was in Christor and Jaime’s room, tending to Christor, Bronn was assisting him. Jaime didn’t know if he would’ve had the strength to tend to someone who had attacked his wife, _or lover_ , his mind turning to Brienne. Not that Brienne would need protecting, she would’ve cut that lad from balls to chin if it had been her out there that night, that was not to say that Elayne did not do a good job defending herself. 

 

“What happened Elayne?” 

 

Elayne took a shaky breath and a sip of wine, “I was out looking for you, I was worried, after what I heard that Bronn say… but I couldn’t find you. It was so dark, but I could still see the candle in the window of the cottage. I turned to walk back and someone- Christor, he grabbed me from behind. He held that knife to my throat-“

 

“The knife that’s in his belly?”

 

Elayne nodded, taking another sip of wine before continuing, “He forced me down onto the sand, demanding I give him my money. When he flipped me over and I saw his face, I kept on telling him it was me, Elayne. Oh! Jaime, it was like he wasn’t himself, he was frenzied! He… he started pulling on my dress- I thought he was going to rape me, that is when I screamed… why? Why would he do this Jaime? After everything Olivar and I have done for him?”

 

Elayne started sobbing. Jamie reached over and squeezed her hand.

 

“I somehow managed to get the knife from him and I knew that I had to stab him to get him to stop… I’ve never had to stab anyone before… I’m supposed to save lives.” Elayne murmured as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. Jaime took the cup of wine from her and placed it on the table.

 

“It is the easiest of things to do, that can often be the hardest,” Jaime looked carefully into her eyes. “He would’ve hurt you if you hadn’t stabbed him, would’ve taken you away from Olivar and your children if you hadn’t, just remember that.”

 

“Is love a good reason to hurt someone though?” Elayne asked. “I have no doubt that he has a family somewhere who would not want him hurt or dead.”

 

“If he does he has never made any mention of them.”

 

Jaime turned as Olivar opened the door and came into the room. He was wiping the blood off his hands onto a rag. His face was pale.

 

“He’s gone,” Olivar stated as he approached his wife. Tossing the rag into the fireplace, he gathered his wife into his arms and let her sob out her grief. _And her self disgust_ , Jaime thought, as he took the couple in. Killing others was a messy business for most, but more so for those not used to killing, not used to having to defend what is right and what is theirs.

 

“Well, the bugger was a slippery fellow and all,” Bronn entered the room, in his arms were bags of coins, embossed leather boots, silk shirts, and heavily decorated leather jerkins. “I went through the box under his bed, this ain’t his stuff, too fancy. I heard about those dead bodies washing up on the beaches when I was, well, at the Blacksmiths. Ha, he thought it was you Jaime, doing all that killing, but seems to me it was this lad… bit disturbed I think!”

 

Jaime, Olivar, and Elaine all looked astounded as Bronn dropped the booty on the floor in front of them. Elayne gripped Olivar’s arms and turned to him, “Oh, we had him living in this house, with our children!”

 

Olivar had turned as white as a ghost, “when do you leave for the capital Bronn? Can you take the body with you? I don’t want that animal in my house any longer.”

 

Bronn glanced at Jaime, “well, I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. I’ll take the body with me, but not to the capital, I’ll find a secluded place on the journey and bury him.”

 

Olivar and Elayne nodded their thanks. Elayne turned to Jaime, “Jaime, you saved me-“

 

Jaime shook his head and grimaced, “you saved yourself Elayne.”

 

“No,” Elayne stepped forward and pulled Jaime into a hug. “I may have stabbed the boy, but you, he could’ve still killed me, you heard my scream and came to help, you sat with me and cared for me when my husband had to deal with the body. You are my friend Jaime… I know you have made mistakes, I know you don’t see yourself as worthy, but you are a good man.”

 

_You are not your sister, you're not, your better than she is, you're a good man…_ The memory hit him like a punch to the stomach, he could feel Brienne’s gentle fingers cupping his face, see the despair in her beautiful blue eyes, her pale skin, the tremble of her lip. He wanted her so desperately in that moment, to see her, to tell her he did care, that he cared too much. Jaime pulled back from Elayne and turned to Bronn, “tell Tyrion you found me, but please, only Tyrion.”

 

Bronn nodded, “you don’t want to come with me?”

 

“No, no, I’m not ready for that… just yet.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for your comments... I am at a point in my story where, when the horror show that was the final two and a half episodes happened, I started to write little individual stories that were my headcanon... all in the same little universe I created in my head, but separate and needing to be joined some how. A lot of these little scenes are between Jaime and Tyrion, Jaime and Brienne... I've now come up with some alternatives and its time for me to decide which way this story is going to go, or rather, I know where it is going, but I could take a slightly different path... the next chapter will be from Brienne's point of view, and then we will probably skip back to Jaime and Tyrion... enjoy, and please continue with the comments, its food for the soul!

 

 

 

Tyrion was sitting enjoying his lunch in his own rooms. He had had a letter from Brienne arrive, not long before the midday bell, and he had wanted some privacy to read it. As he sipped his wine and read the letter, he smiled, delighting in Brienne's stories about Alys.

 

_Alys smiled for the first time the other day. She has a beautiful smile, it lights up her face like nothing else; her eyes are as blue as ever, though I think there is a hint of green near the centre. Her neck is getting stronger, she is lifting her head from my hand now whenever I hold her, though she is still not strong enough- YET- to hold her little sword…_

 

Laughing at Brienne’s reference to the sword Gendry had made for baby Alys, Tyrion shook his head as he placed the letter down, away from the food. Taking up a plate, he piled it high with sweetened pork, roast potatoes, and pickled cabbage, pouring a generous helping of gravy over the top. He was just about to take a bite of the pork when his chamber door flew open and Bronn strode in.

 

“Ah, good, you’re eating!” Bronn sat down at the table and dragged the pork towards himself. “I’m starving!”

 

Tyrion dropped his fork and motioned for his servant to fetch another plate and set of cutlery. “Won’t you wait for Manfred to fetch-“

 

“Nope!” Bronn spoke through a mouthful of pork. “I haven’t eaten since last night, needed to get back here to tell you something important.”

 

Tyrion raised an inquiring eyebrow at his friend. Bronn smiled, gravy trailed down his chin, “but have to eat first.”

 

Manfred came back and shoved a plate and cutlery at Bronn, who grabbed them and proceeded to pile more pork and potatoes on the plate.

 

“Hm-mmm,” Tyrion frowned. “So I take it you solved our problem for the farmer, but now the tavern owner wants you dead and that is why you had to return to us post haste?”

 

Bronn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “sorta, I mean, if he ever sees me again he will kill me, but not for the reasons you think.”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “Reasons? Not reason? What did you do? Fuck his only daughter?”

 

“Well, I fucked one of his daughter’s, and I would fathom that is one of the reasons that he wants me dead.” Bronn gave Tyrion a satisfied, sly smile.

 

“What’s the other? Did you threatened him regarding the farmer?”

 

Bronn chewed quickly on some potato, swallowed, and replied, “forget the fucking farmer- where did you bury Jaime’s body?”

 

Tyrion froze, “what does that have to do with anything?”

 

“A lot,” Bronn shoved a piece of pork in his mouth. “Are you sure your brother is dead?”

 

Tyrion grimaced slightly and turned his head, “I buried my brother and sister in a quiet spot just outside the city, in a meadow that slopes down towards the water. Only myself, Ser Davos, and Brienne, know where…. Bronn, what does my brother’s grave have to do with your trip to Duskendale?”

 

Having had his fill, Bronn pushed his plate away, and motioned for Manfred to bring him a goblet of wine. As Manfred handed him the wine Bronn said, “your dismissed.”

 

Manfred looked affronted and turned to Tyrion, who simply waved his hand in acquiesce; Bronn watched Manfred leave the room.

 

“You see Tyrion, I met someone at the tavern who, well…”

 

“For the seven’s sake Bronn, spit it out!”

 

“I met Jaime Lannister.”

 

Tyrion burst out laughing. Bronn started laughing with him. Both of them sat there laughing, until Tyrion stopped, struggling to breathe, “Bronn, this is a very cruel joke and I don’t appreciate it, my brother is dead and-“

 

“I’m not joking, unless your idiot brother had an identical twin, who also answers to the name Jaime Lannister, then your brother is alive and well living just outside Duskendale.”

 

Tyrion turned pale, his mouth opened and closed, his hands started trembling. What reason would Bronn have to lie about this, when Tyrion remembered the bodies they had found in the red keep, nearly a month after the destruction, it had been assumed that they were the bodies of his brother and sister. His sister had been found under the bricks of the keep, down in the dungeons, his brother’s body had been found in one of the tunnels leading down to the coves at the base of the keep. Tyrion had assumed that they had attempted to make it out together and that Cersei had been caught in the bricks and Jaime had left her body and attempted to flee himself. The bodies, of course, had decomposed quite significantly by the time they found them. The man’s body in the tunnel, it had been missing a hand, it had been about Jaime’s height, the hair colour the same. It was Jaime, it had to have been.

 

“What? How?” Tyrion stuttered as he reached for his wine.

 

“When I got to the village I interrogated the smithy, he mentioned that I should speak to a _Jacob_ , a new man at the tavern who was- security- let’s say, a man with a missing hand and a vicious hook. So I went to the tavern to see if I could find this _Jacob... w_ ell, after a dalliance with Dayns’ daughter, I heard his voice, I knew that voice. Walked out of the stables and there he was, Jaime fucking Lannister, or rather the mysterious _Jacob_.”

 

“Jacob… what? He can’t be… oh Jaime.” Tyrion slid off his chair and walked out to the balcony. The sun was beating down, heating the early spring day almost to summer temperatures, flowers were starting to bloom on the creepers that wound around the stone pillars. Bees had come back and were busy buzzing from flowers to flower. There was a faint murmur of voices rising from the courtyard below. Other than that there was silence. Tyrion felt his heartbreaking all over again. Bronn stepped out to join him.

 

“Where is he? Did he come back with you?” Tyrion asked hopefully.

 

“Nope, he said he wasn’t ready to return yet,” Bronn shook his head. “He’s a bit of mess to be honest-“

 

“What?” Tyrion looked sharply at Bronn. “Physically? Is he okay? Is it his face? He was considered the handsomest man in all of Westeros once, it would be a shame if his face-“

 

“It’s not his face,” Bronn scoffed. “He’s still the prettiest man in the six kingdoms, though looking a little worse for wear, in fact the the tavern girl I fucked told me she thought _Jacob_ the handsomest man she had ever seen. Just what you want to hear when your balls deep-“

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tyrion grimaced. “Why the name _Jacob_?”

 

“I don’ know, I didn’t ask him…”

 

“What happened to him? How did he escape the keep, King’s Landing?”

 

“I asked ‘im that! He didn’t want to talk about it.” Bronn crossed his arms.

 

Tyrion turned in frustration to Bronn, “well what did he say?!?”

 

Bronn shrugged his shoulders, “nothing much. In fact, he didn’t even want me to tell you that I had seen him… You want my opinion?”

 

“You’re going to give it to me anyway.”

 

“Physically he looks fine, up here in the mind,” Bronn tapped the side of his head. “He’s messed up. He’s dead inside, all that fucking Lannister sarcasm you boys have? Gone. He’s not himself anymore… I think that’s why he stays away, that and he’s afraid, afraid that he’s fucked up to much this time, and neither you or Ser Brienne will forgive him.”

 

“Brienne! I have to tell Brienne,” Tyrion cried as he stepped back into his chambers and made for his desk.

 

Bronn grabbed him by the arm and stopped him, “one of the conditions of me telling you was that Brienne wouldn’t find out.”

 

“Why not? She has a right to know- no, she has to be told, if not for her sake, for Alys’… did you tell him about Alys?” asked Tyrion, now wide-eyed with concern.

 

“He didn’t want to talk about Brienne."

 

Tyrion nodded as he took a chair again. He slumped. He was in shock. For nearly a year he had thought his brother dead; yet said brother had been living in Duskendale working as a glorified bodyguard for the cheating wretch that was Carlon Dayns. Reaching for his wine again, Tyrion drained the cup, and gestured for Bronn to fill it again. Bronn smiled as he picked up the carafe and poured. Tyrion drained his cup again and waved for more. Bronn sighed and poured again, and then poured a cup for himself.

 

“I will go, I will go to him, try and talk some sense into him, get him to come back!” said Tyrion.

 

“You forget, you are the Hand of the King, you can’t just up and leave, especially with it being a week to the memorial.” Bronn countered.

 

“You go! You go back! Insist that he return with you, chain him up and drag him back if you have to!” Tyrion looked hopeful at Bronn.

 

Bronn shook his head, “I can’t, my wedding is three days after the memorial and I can guarantee you my wife-to-be won’t want me traipsing back to, well, any fucking where, anytime soon. Besides, that Dayns cunt will kill me if he sees me again, I’m not willing to risk it.”

 

Tyrion groaned in frustration, “so what would you have me do! You tell me my brother is alive and he won’t come here, and yet I cannot go there?”

 

Bronn contemplated, “I think neither of us have to go there… I think he will come here… eventually.”

 

Tyrion doubted it, he knew his brother and his stubbornness, if he felt that his loved ones were better off without him he would stay away. A knock at the door made both of the men jumped.

 

“Enter,” Tyrion called. Ser Davos opened the door.

 

“Ser Bronn! Where have you been? Your betrothed was looking for you last night… on second thought, maybe I don’t want to know where you were,” Davos grimaced as he walked in.

 

Bronn and Tyrion shared a glance. Bronn indicated it was up to Tyrion as to what Ser Davos was told. “I sent Bronn on a special mission, on behalf of a valued supplier of the royal household.”

 

Ser Davos nodded, “oh, I see, did you have success?”

 

“He did… he- Ser Davos please shut the door.”

 

Bronn looked slightly alarmed at Tyrion, “you know he said I was only supposed to tell you, right?”

 

“Only tell you what?” Ser Davos said as he glanced out into the corridor before shutting the door. Ser Davos was a careful man, and he sensed he was about to be told an important secret, he seemed to be a lot of people’s secret keeper, an honour he sometimes felt he could do without.

 

Tyrion cleared his throat and glanced at Bronn again, “I… you… my brother.”

 

“What about your brother?” Ser Davos asked.

 

“We thought we buried him, well… it appears it wasn’t him we buried,” replied Tyrion, his cheeks flushed from the wine, his lips trembled with uncertainty.

 

“But I saw the body, I _put_ the body in the ground for you-“

 

“Yes! I know, but even you have to admit the corpse’s face, well, it was very damaged-“

 

“The right hand, the right hand was missing!” Davos interjected.

 

“So what!” Bronn leapt in, “it is a common punishment for those that steal, many a man, and woman, in King’s Landing has a hand missing.”

 

Ser Davos looked questioningly at Tyrion. Tyrion sighed, “I asked Ser Bronn to do some investigative work at a tavern, not far from Duskendale, well, he ran into more than he bargained for-“

 

“Too right,” Bronn interjected again. “I ran into Jaime Lannister, alive and well, working at said tavern, living with a family nearby. Alive and breathing, and still a stupid idiot.”

 

“Well I’ll be,” Davos collapsed on one of the plush lounging chairs by the fire. “You’re sure it’s him? Absolutely certain?”

 

Bronn rolled his eyes, “as certain as a whore with a cock up her arse - why would I lie about something like this!”

 

“I’m not accusing you of lying, I’m just… we buried him.”

 

Tyrion sighed in resignation, “no we didn’t, we made one hell of a mistake, and I’m his brother! I should’ve known it wasn’t him!”

 

“Grief does funny things to you, you weren’t just grieving a brother, but a sister also,” Davos replied gently.

 

“I hated my sister,” Tyrion snapped.

 

“You did, but she was still your sister, your blood,” Davos replied, pointedly. Tyrion nodded in agreement. Bronn picked at his teeth.

 

“Ser Davos, can I ask you a favour?” Tyrion looked hopeful at the older man.

 

“Of course!”

 

“Jaime won’t come back to King’s Landing, at least not yet, I can’t leave the King anytime soon, and Bronn, well-“

 

“I’m getting married!” Bronn interjected.

 

Tyrion smiled at Davos, “would you go to Jaime, today, and try and convince him to return, tell him he doesn’t have to stay in King’s Landing, I just want to see him, with my own eyes.”

 

Davos took a moment to think about what he was being asked to do, “I’ll do this for you… I think I want to see him with my own eyes too. Where is he exactly?”

 

Bronn stood up, “He’s staying in one of the cottages, on the beach just north of Duskendale, ask for the Summer’s cottage when you get there.”

 

Davos nodded his thanks.

 

“Ser Davos, what were you here for anyway?” Bronn asked.

 

“Oh- the King wants to see you Lord Tyrion!”

 

“Right,” Tyrion leapt off his chair. “I’ll go to the King, Ser Davos, thank you for this, I will give you coin-“

 

“No need for that, I’ll hopefully see you in the next day or two, with your brother in tow.”

 

—

 

It had been a few days since Ser Davos had set off to bring Jaime back to King’s Landing. Tyrion had received a raven from Davos, informing him that Jaime hadn’t been pleased to see him, that he was working on the man to convince him to come back. People were starting to flood into the city, mourners, chancers, entertainers, the rich and the poor. There were only four more days before the memorial day and a somber mood was taking over the city. Tyrion was fidgety. He had had word from Tarth that Brienne, her father, Alys, Pod, and a few other minor Lords and Ladies of Tarth were on their ship making the few days journey to Blackwater Bay. He knew Brienne had been nervous to bring Alys on the ship and into the capital, thoughts of sinking, drowning, disease, and death had plagued her thoughts. It warmed Tyrion’s heart whenever he thought of Brienne the mother, she had stepped into the role as easily as she stepped into the role of knight. Tyrion couldn’t wait to see them in two days time, though he was also worried, if Jaime did come to the city, how would he handle the situation. He certainly couldn’t lock Jaime up, but he couldn’t stop Brienne from staying in one of the noble houses next to the keep, not without suspicion anyway.

 

A lad came skidding into the small council chambers where Tyrion had been sitting trying to compose some important speeches for the memorial. The lad stood there huffing and puffing for a good minute before he could gasp his words out, “Ser Davos is back my Lord, he…. he…. he asks that you come to your chambers, he has news about the ink… inki… inkweeery.”

 

“Inquiry?” Tyrion asked. His heart felt like it was going to thump its way out of his chest. He felt dizzy.

 

The boy nodded.

 

“Sit, sit a moment, here, have some water,” Tyrion poured and passed him a cup of water. The boy downed it quickly, and a moment later was recovered. Tyrion tossed him a coin and dismissed him. A quick tidy of the council table, and Tyrion left the room, locking the door behind him. His legs couldn’t carry him quick enough along the corridor, up the stairs, across the connecting balcony, down the stairs, along two more corridors, through another door into an outer chamber, and then to the door into his own chambers. Tyrion hesitated, he feared what Davos would say, that Jaime had decided that he would never come to the city, that he never wanted to see his brother again. Quietly he lifted the lock and pushed the door open. The room was silent, light filtering in through the curtains that billowed slightly in the breeze. The balcony doors were open and Ser Davos stood at them looking outside . Tyrion cleared his throat and Davos turned, his face was inscrutable.

 

“Well?” Tyrion stepped closer. “What news of my brother?”

 

Davos simply turned and indicated Tyrion to come out onto the balcony. Tyrion stepped through and was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sun. Like a dream, the light softened, and there in front of him stood Jaime. Tyrion let out a yell of joy and flung himself at his brother. Jaime fell to his knees and caught Tyrion tightly in his arms. Together they cried as they held each other. Ser Davos smiled as he left the chambers. It had taken some doing to convince Jaime to come with him, but he was glad he took the time, _spring is the season of hope_.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to jump back to Brienne and explore a little of what she might be feeling and experiencing on the boat trip to King's Landing... it is the first anniversary of Jaime's death as far as she is concerned, and I know from experience how hard the first anniversary is when you lose a loved one. This was hard to write, I cried a bit... but it sets up the reunion wonderfully....

 

 

 

Evenfall Hall had been in a mass panic for a number of days as people prepared the household for the journey to the capital. A panic that had unsettled Alys, meaning she was barely sleeping through the night, therefore meaning Brienne and Myrtle were barely sleeping through the night. On top of the lack of sleep and stress about her daughter, Brienne also had a permanent sinking feeling in her stomach, and a throat closed over by anxiety. She knew what it was, this sinking feeling, but she daren’t name it aloud, she didn’t want to give it any more power over her. It was only in the hollow hours of the night, the darkest moments before dawn, when Alys would finally doze off, Myrtle would crawl back to her own bed, and Brienne would lean on the balustrade of her balcony quietly retching into the garden below, that she would let it take her. She would crawl to her own bed and cry herself to sleep. It was grief, she knew it, it was nearly the year anniversary of his death and as much as she tried to push the sadness away, it was eating at her insides, spreading like a disease that had festered in her heart. Brienne would wonder, in the light of day when even the sunshine and flowers would do nothing to lighten her mood, how she was ever happy the past few months, how she had ever felt lightness in her heart after the birth of her daughter. It seemed impossible that she could’ve felt anything other than this deep darkness, so dark that even her daughter’s laughter and smiles couldn’t shine through. 

 

Brienne had found it hard to look at Alys in the lead up to the anniversary; Alys as a newborn had been sweetly neither her or Jaime, but Alys as a three month old was taking on more and more of Jaime’s look. There was no mistaking who her father was now, she may have had Brienne’s eyes, but everything else was pure Lannister. She had Jaime’s ears, nose, chin, hair colour, and when she smiled at her mother, little did the wee babe know what pain this caused her, for it was Jaime’s smile through and through. The similarities were too much, and as much as Brienne loved her daughter; so close to the anniversary of Jaime’s death, it was too much to look at her, to hug her, to care for her. Brienne had felt guilty about how she felt, she forced herself to look after her daughter, but found she was allowing Myrtle to do more and more. Myrtle had noticed this and had tried to talk to her about it, but Brienne had just shut her down with curt words, and slamming doors.

 

This particular morning was particularly stressful, they were to board their ship to King’s landing just before lunchtime, and with so much for the servants still to pack, the entire hall was in a frenzy. Brienne was in the foulest mood yet, every time she held her daughter, Alys would scream; eventually she palmed her off to Myrtle and refused to take her back. When her father came to see if they were nearly ready to go, Brienne had yelled at him, nearly biting his head off in anger. Lord Selwyn turned red, he had never been spoken to like that in his entire life, and before he left, to go ensure their luggage was starting to be taken to the docks, he had informed his daughter that they would talk on the ship later that afternoon. Brienne had hung her head sulkily and nodded her assent. When it came time to carry the trunks to the carts, Brienne was like an angry hornet, buzzing from one person to the next, curtly giving instructions, often with a sting in the tail.

 

Alys was carried to the docks by Myrtle. Every time her mother strode past to bark orders at someone, Alys’ arms would extend towards Brienne, her hands grabbing to be held by the person she wanted the most. Brienne ignored the babe, focusing on the work that needed to be done, occasionally grasping the hilt of Oathkeeper to try and calm her emotions. By the time everyone was on board the ship and ready to go, Brienne was exhausted, and Myrtle was sick of the wriggling, screaming babe that just wanted her mother. So Myrtle, not minding Brienne’s desperate “NO”, plonked Alys in her mother’s arms and strode off for some peace and quiet. Brienne wanted to cry, just as loudly and objectionably as Alys; instead she strode up and down the deck, rocking the baby to try and calm her. The end of the straw for Brienne came when she overheard Lady Ashby say to her companion, “well, what do you expect, the Kingslayer is the brat’s father, no wonder she is so misbehaved. And Lady Brienne as her mother?!? She is more man than woman, no wonder she doesn’t know how to control the child."

 

Brienne, red in the face and holding a screaming Alys in her arms, turned to the Lady and retorted, “if you know better than me, then you take the babe, here you go….” Brienne attempted to place the wriggling three month old in the Lady’s arms. Lady Ashby turned pale and tried to push the baby away, but Brienne was bigger and stronger, and kept on pressing Alys towards her. Eventually Lord Selwyn arrived and stepped in to grab the screaming baby. Once he had his grandchild in his arms, he glared at his daughter and indicated she should walk with him, it was time for their talk.

 

They walked in silence towards the back part of the ship. Tarth was slowly moving further away as the ship’s sails picked up the good southerly breeze, propelling the great vessel forward. Alys, in her grandfathers arms, had calmed down, and was seemingly fascinated by the glint of sunlight on the water.

 

“She is just like you you know,” Selwyn said, gazing with adoration at the babe.

 

“No she’s not,” Brienne whispered fiercely, now that she was relatively alone with her father she felt the pent up emotion rising. No matter what she did she couldn’t stop the tears sliding down her cheeks. Selwyn glanced up and saw the distress his daughter was under. Placing an arm around her shoulders he pulled her to his side.

 

“It is always the first anniversary that is the hardest… I’m so sorry my sweetling, we should’ve, all of us, realised how hard this time would be for you. How hard going to King’s Landing would be for you.”

 

Brienne buried her face into her father’s neck and sobbed. “Will it ever get any easier father?”

 

Selwyn squeezed her, “not around anniversaries and special days… but the in-between days, they will get lighter. The past few months, with this little sunbeam, you have had some of those lighter days, I have seen you smile your old smile, laugh your booming laugh.”

 

Brienne grimaced at the description of her laugh, it reminded her of Jaime claiming he wasn’t laughing at her laugh, he was laughing with her, after he had told a poor joke that had set her off in hysterics.

 

Selwyn continued, “grief is a strange thing, I have experienced intense grief so much over the past thirty years, but each time has been just as hard as the last. Each time has been different, for various reasons, but never easier to bear… I never knew Ser Jaime, other than by reputation, but I trust your opinion of him, and with the stories you and Lord Tyrion have told me, I know that he, Ser Jaime, would be so proud of you right now… if there is one thing I can be sure of, he loved you sweetling, and for that I will be forever grateful that he did come into your life.”

 

At her father’s kind words Brienne started crying again. Selwyn simply held her; Alys had stopped looking at the water and was now reaching for her mother, hunger making her grumble. “Here, take your daughter, go to your cabin and feed her, and love her… I know it’s been hard lately to feel close to her, but remember, she is all you have left of the man you loved, don’t throw it away because you are hurting and angry… I tried that route once and I…. I almost lost you my sweet. Let us talk again later though… come and find me my darling.”

 

Brienne nodded and sniffled as she took Alys in her arms. Reaching up, she kissed her father’s cheek, then made her way to her cabin to reacquaint herself with her beautiful girl.

 

—

 

The ship was making good time, Tarth had disappeared behind them, the lighthouse at Stonedance could be seen in the distance. The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale blue hue over everything. Supper had been served and most of the Lords, Ladies, and servants had retired for the night. The rocking of the ship had helped Alys to fall asleep and stay asleep; and Brienne left her in her room, Myrtle on a cot next to Alys’ basket. Brienne knew her father wouldn’t be asleep yet, and she needed to talk to him, she needed to apologise for her behaviour. She found him at the prow of the ship.

 

“Father?”

 

Selwyn turned and smiled at her, “your mother used to love sailing at night, she always said the moon was magic, and when the light was this bright, that was when mermaids, seahorses, and narwhals would come alive and frolic in the sea.”

 

Brienne stepped up to stand by her father, linking her arm with his, “mother always had the best fairy stories.”

 

Selwyn laughed, “that she did… Galladon was very much like her in that respect, always wanting to hear about the made up creatures of far away.”

 

“Father…. do you ever wish that it was me that had drowned that day… that Galladon had lived instead?” Brienne’s voice caught in her throat. Ever since she had been a teenager and trained in swordsmanship and the other knightly arts, she had tried so much to be the son that her father had lost. Despite this, despite becoming the best swordsman in Westeros, despite trying to be more man than woman, Brienne had not been able to suppress her maiden heart. It had revealed itself in her devotion to Renly, her care and nurturing of Pod, and in her utterly unconditional love of Jaime Lannister. She could no more hide her desire to be loved and desired as a woman then she could hide her desire to beat all men with a sword. Brienne knew that it was her maiden’s heart that would cause her pain… and cause her father pain. She could not bear the thought that she was a disappointment to him, as a knight and as a woman.

 

Selwyn looked at her with concern, “my darling, I would no more ask the God’s to swap your place with Galladon then I would ask the God’s to take away my time with your mother to avoid the pain. Life my dear, love, family, it's all worth the pain in the end, as much as the pain can be unbearable. You are perfect to me, and Alys is perfect to me, and I could not be without either of your in my life- do you understand?”

 

Brienne nodded and wiped tears from her cheeks. Selwyn pulled his daughter into a bone crushing hug. “If I could’ve spared you the pain that I had felt when I lost your mother I would have, just because you and Ser Jaime were not married doesn’t make the love you had any less real, and I can see your love and your grief every single day. But I want you to know that you are not alone in this, I am here for you, Dyana and Myrtle are here for you, young Podrick is as devoted to you as I have seen any squire devoted to their knight, Lord Tyrion would bend over backwards to make sure that you and Alys have everything you need, and our new liege Lord seems quite taken with you and Alys, I dare say that child will have a lifelong defender in that man. Please my sweetling, please remember, you are never ever alone.”

 

Brienne sobbed into her father’s neck, her hands clinging to his tunic, just as she had as a child, after her mother’s death, after her brother’s death. Selwyn simply rubbed her back and made soothing sounds, allowing her the space to let the emotions out. He was so proud of his daughter, his only surviving child. She had honoured him and the House of Tarth with her legendary status as a knight that protected the realms of men, as a knight that lay duty and devotion above anything else, as a knight that protected the innocent at all costs. She had also honoured him as a daughter, becoming a mother, the unwed part had been a bitter pill to swallow, but he had known that Brienne would only lay with a man she deeply loved. Brienne as a mother was a sight to behold, she had taken to it as easily as she had taken to swordplay, and Selwyn knew that his granddaughter was lucky to have the mother she did.

 

“Father, I’m sorry,” Brienne murmured, twisting her head to look up at the moon.

 

“Now, now, I know you are, and like I said earlier, we should’ve realised how hard this time would be for you… I don’t like being yelled at, but as long as you don’t make it a habit, I’ll forgive you… this time,” Selwyn glanced down and winked at her. Brienne let out an amused huff.

 

“Go and get some sleep my dear, you need it, when we arrive at King’s Landing in two days time you will be glad for the rest.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, can I say thank you thank you thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter, it really is your comments that keep me going, keep me fitting writing this story into my busy schedule. This story is my canon and I have been living it and breathing it since the finale. I am so glad that it is bringing inspiration and joy to others as well. So, here we go, we are moving ever closer to the BIG reunion (after the other big reunion between Jaime and Tyrion), each chapter feels like the two paths Jaime and Brienne are on are merging more and more. Oh yeah, and you know how fandom went a bit mad over the fact that Cersei didn't look very pregnant in the show, I deal with that in this chapter. Here we go....

 

 

Tyrion brought his wine and two goblets out onto the balcony and placed them on the small tiled table that sat next to the balustrade. He hopped up onto one of the chairs and started pouring. Jaime stood leaning on the rail, gazing down at the few people wandering across the courtyard below, he recognised one of them, Ser Mallard. _He looks a lot older then when I last saw him,_ Mallard was about Jaime’s age and had been a hedge night that frequented the capital, though it now appeared he was a part of the King’s Guard, judging by his white cloak.

 

“I see you’re letting any old rabble into the King’s Guard these days,” Jaime said, nodding towards Mallard.

 

Tyrion looked over the railing, “well, we’ve had to pick up from, well… we lost a lot… Mallard is talented you know?”

 

Jaime raised his eyebrows and turned to his brother, “oh, I know, he nearly beat me once at a tourney in Highgarden, many, many, many years ago.”

 

Tyrion laughed as he pushed a goblet towards Jaime, “let us toast your return dear brother!”

 

Jaime shook his head, “let’s not.”

 

Taking a gulp of his wine, Tyrion felt his stomach clench, he thought back to what Bronn had said _I think that’s why he stays away … he’s afraid, afraid that he’s fucked up to much this time, and neither you or Ser Brienne will forgive him._ “ You know there is nothing to forgive or repent Jaime, I love you and I would rather have you back here, with me, with-“

 

“I can’t stay,” Jaime cut in, he pushed the goblet towards Tyrion, and turned back to look down in the courtyard. This time he noticed two ladies of the court that he recognised, Lady Marybel and Lady Ellya, both from House Cressey. Cersei hadn’t liked either of the women, especially Lady Ellya, who had flirted with Jaime during one of Robert’s name day banquets. Even though Jaime had only had eyes for Cersei and he had told her as much, the next day Cersei had spread the vicious rumour that Lady Ellya had lain with Ser Edmun Bluet, Ser Harryson Carmichael, and Festred, a whore from one of Littlefingers houses, all together at the same time. Lady Ellya, of course, had denied it, declared it a falsehood, but the shame the rumour brought on her family was enough to send her away from court for many years. _And here she is, back again, now that Cersei is gone… it is safe_.

 

Jaime moved to sit with his back against the stone pillar of the balcony. His face was stony, no emotion was evident, he was starting to go away, inside of himself, again. Tyrion leant back against his chair and observed his brother. He was leaner, it made him seem taller somehow, and his hair was such a muddy blonde that it appeared more brown now than anything else. The golden lion was well and truly gone. _If Cersei was here she wouldn’t recognise her own twin_ , Tyrion took another mouthful of wine. As he watched his brother he could see him fold in on himself, like a deck of cards, his knees were under his chin and his hand clasped his hook tightly. _Jaime doesn’t know he has choices, surely he has to know he has choices now, Cersei is no longer here to dictate what he should and shouldn’t do… who he should and shouldn’t be…_

 

“You know Jaime, you have choices…”

 

Jaime huffed, “I’ve never had a choice Tyrion, never…”

 

“I understand Jaime, our sister’s claws were long, I know you think you had no choices when it came to Cersei… but you know what I saw when we were in Winterfell together after the long night, I saw you, without our sister’s influence. Jaime you made a choice then, you chose to be with Brienne and you were happy, or was I wrong about what I saw?”

 

It was the first time that Brienne had been mentioned between them since they been reunited and Tyrion wasn’t sure how much he should tell his brother about her circumstances. It had been just over a year since Jaime and Brienne had last seen each other and from what Brienne had told him about Jaime leaving Winterfell it had not been a good parting. Jaime turned even paler, all colour bled from his lips, his eyes were wide and wet. Tyrion noticed his brother's hand had started shaking, leaping off his chair, Tyrion ran to Jaime, “Jaime, Jaime, tell me what is wrong… Please tell me what to do?”

 

“I am hateful, I don’t deserve anything other than death, why didn’t I die with Cersei?” Jaime’s tearful face peered at Tyrion, as though he could divine some kind of answer from his brother.

 

Tyrion sighed and sat down, resting his hand on Jaime’s, “you are not hateful-“

 

“I am!”

 

“- I’ll give it to you, you have done some hateful things, in the name of some kind of twisted love that was between you and Cersei. But you have to know, that wasn’t you! When I tally up in my head everything good that you have done, it far outweighs any bad; we all make mistakes, I have made some colossal errors in my life, committed heinous crimes… I’m sorry that I killed father, I am sorry that I killed Shae. As much as I believe father deserved it, I know, I know it was not my decision to make… and Shae, she… I should be punished for her death, and if you are hateful, then so am I.”

 

Jaime scoffed, “you have made mistakes, but not like me.”

 

“What? Because there are no men like you? That is what you have always claimed, that you are some singular specimen of the male species and therefore special.” Tyrion felt frustrated, he knew Jaime to be stubborn, but exile had seemed to make to make him even more so, “You are no more special than I, or Bronn, or Ser Davos, or King Brandon, or Pod… or even Ser Brienne!”

 

Jaime looked sharply at Tyrion, “Brienne is-“

 

Tyrion smiled, “yes, she is special, perhaps I was wrong there… I think what makes her singularly special is the love she bears for you.”

 

Jaime swallowed deeply, he hung his head, and murmured, “she shouldn’t, I tainted her, I besmirched her honour, I took her like a whore, I-“

 

“Rubbish!” Tyrion interjected. “She made the choice to be with you because she loves you, you were happy, you were happy Jaime, I-“

 

“Why are you asking me this now?” Jaime snapped. He didn’t want to talk about Brienne or Winterfell with Tyrion. Yearning for Elayne, Jaime rubbed his face, Elayne had been the only one to understand about Brienne, the only one he could talk to about her without feeling judged. Elayne may have constantly tried to persuade him to return to his loved ones, but she always knew when to ease off, or tease, or commiserate. “You could’ve asked me in the tent, when you set me free, when you sent me to my death.”

 

Tyrion leant back as though he had been scorched by a hot poker, “how dare you! I set you free because I thought there might be a chance, a chance for you-“

 

“And who? our darling sister who you hated so much!”

 

“And who YOU seemingly loved too much!”

 

Both brothers turned their faces from each other in anger. Tyrion turned back, resigned, “Jaime, I don’t want to fight, I don’t want Cersei to still be causing trouble between us… I accept that you loved her, I accept my role in all of this mess, I… I knew that if you didn’t at least try to save her and... the unborn child, that you would hate yourself for the rest of your life… but you seem to be hating yourself anyway… what is that?”

 

Jaime sighed, “what is what?”

 

Tyrion grabbed Jaime’s hook and pulled it towards him, Jaime’s sleeve rode up, revealing red scars sitting just above the hook’s cuff. Jaime tried to pull his arm back, he was in no mood to address his suicide attempt with his brother, but Tyrion held tight, running his finger tips over the scars.

 

“Jaime…”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Jaime tugged his arm away from his brother, covering the scars with his other hand.

 

“Well, perhaps you need to talk to someone about it, I-“

 

“I have, I do,” Jaime suddenly wished with all his might that he was back in that cottage by the sea, with Elayne chatting to him from across the fire as she darned socks, whilst Olivar mixed potions for the neighbour who had a fever, and the Summer’s children played chess at the kitchen table. It dawned on him like an arrow piercing his heart, family, a normal, boring, safe, loving family, that is what he wanted most in this world. Cersei, Tyrion, and himself had never known what it was like to be loved unconditionally by a mother or father. Jaime was sure that his mother had loved them all as much as she could, but his memories of her were so dim, and his father had been so bent on legacy, ignoring the basic tenants of creating a family that could sustain exactly what he wanted. Perhaps, if Tywin had been the father they needed, perhaps if Tywin had been like Olivar, Cersei and Jaime would not have felt the need to create their own twisted version of family, and Tyrion would have felt the love and acceptance of a father who honoured his gifts, instead of constantly disparaging his perceived deficiencies. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen popped into his mind, Jaime had barely thought of his children in the past year, had pushed their memories down like he had Brienne’s, Tyrion’s, and Cersei's. His children. Children he had begotten and been forbidden from raising; he so desperately had wanted to be a father to them, his heart ached for what he could never have.

 

Jaime turned to Tyrion, “I speak to Elayne, she listens, she understands.”

 

“She is the woman you stayed with right?… I could understand, if you told me,” Tyrion responded, a sense of desperation in his voice, a fear pervaded his senses, he desperately wanted to know his brother again, and he feared he would drive him away.

 

Jaime sensed his brother’s worry, with resignation he replied, “I… I could try, I think, but not tonight.”

 

“You will stay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

—

 

That evening, as they enjoyed a feast and Tyrion kept their cups full, Jaime told him what had happened after he had set him free from the Northern army. How he had almost never made it into the city, how in the end his golden hand had meant shit, how Euron GreyJoy had stabbed him - Jaime had thought fatally, how he had found Cersei in the crumbling map room, how she had desperately wanted to live for their unborn child, how he had tried to enact Tyrion’s plan and get them out via the tunnels in the dungeons, how the tunnels had been blocked, how the walls of the keep had tumbled, how he had held Cersei to comfort her in their final moments, how his last thought had been of a warm room in Winterfell and a woman so innocent, pure, and full of devotion, that he couldn’t help but love her.

 

Tyrion listened and felt his heartbreak - Jaime had been under a misapprehension, and so had Tyrion until they had found Cersei’s body, there had been no baby in her womb, only a slow growing tumour. The Maester who had looked over her body before her burial had come to the conclusion that, even if Cersei had won the war, she would’ve only lived another year or two before she would’ve died from the disease that had been eating her. When Tyrion had heard this it made the destruction of the city even more tragic- if only they had known, could Daenerys have been patient enough to wait for her rival’s natural death. And now, Tyrion felt the unfairness of it for Jaime, their sweet sister had used Jaime’s softness of heart, his immense need to love and be loved, to manipulate him into an unnecessary death. He knew, as much as it could break his brother, he had to tell him about Cersei’s lie. He also knew that he had to tell Jaime about Alys, in the hope that it would, somehow, make up for the ghost child that haunted Jaime’s soul.

 

“Jaime, before you continue, I have to tell you something,” Tyrion carefully put his goblet on the table. Jaime fell silent and looked at him with a concerned frown on his face. “There was no baby.”

 

“What?” Jaime looked confused.

 

“Cersei- there was no babe in her womb… Jaime, she was dying, it, it was a tumour.”

 

Jaime scoffed, “I don’t believe you… she wouldn’t lie about something like that, she loved her children more than anything…”

 

“That she did, it was her only redeeming quality… but did you not wonder, when you saw her, why she wasn’t… um, more ripe?” Tyrion indicated a large belly with his hands.

 

“She always carried small!”

 

“Not that bloody small Jaime, think man, when did she tell you she was with child?”

 

Jaime felt dizzy as he thought back, she had told him she was pregnant after he returned from Highgarden, she would’ve been at least 2 and half months along by then, possibly three. Then there had been the meeting with Daenerys a few weeks later, the muddle of a week that came after, where Cersei had been distant as he had planned for the Crown and Lannister troops to move north. Cersei laughing at him and calling him stupid, proclaiming her deception, her true intent to dishonour her promise to the North. Him leaving her in disgust, determined that he would go north and never look back at King’s Landing, at Cersei ever again. It had taken him nearly three weeks to get to Winterfell, it had been a few days of preparation for the battle with the Night King… and then had come the month of intense happiness with Brienne. And then his descent into darkness, self loathing and recrimination, and he left, making it four weeks to get south, the deepening winter had made the return trek more difficult. Jaime did the numbers in his head - “she had to have been at least five months along.”

 

“Yes, at least, if not more likely six months… she fooled me too Jaime, I saw her, atop the wall, and she looked slim-“

 

“But when I held her, when I… I felt her belly, there was, there was a baby!”

 

“The tumour Jaime, the Maester told me, it was in her belly, as big a baby would be at three months gestation, it was protruding, but not much.”

 

The brother’s fell silent. Tyrion watched as tears fell down his brother’s cheeks. Topping up their goblets, Tyrion bit his bottom lip, he had to tell Jaime of Brienne and Alys. Just as he was about to speak, Jaime stood wearily and said, “I need to be alone right now.”

 

Tyrion nodded, “in the adjoining chamber there is a bed made up for you. Jaime, whatever you do tonight, please don’t… don’t try to…” Tyrion gestured towards Jaime’s right wrist, indicating the scars.

 

“It’s alright Tyrion, I am resigned to the fact that the Gods don’t want me to die yet, living is my punishment it seems.” Jaime turned and walked through the door into his chamber. Tyrion sighed in relief and downed the rest of his wine.

 

—

 

The next morning Tyrion stood at the door into his brother’s chamber and contemplated whether he should knock or just walk straight it. He knew he had to tell Jaime about Brienne, but after the news he had given to his brother about Cersei the night before, he was worried as to how Jaime would react. Just after dawn Manfred had brought it Tyrion’s correspondence and papers that needed immediate signing. He had also brought in Tyrion’s tea, some sweet bread, and fruit, and as Tyrion had broken his fast, he took note of a message from the Tarth contingent, _Making good time, have circled Massey’s Hook, arrive a day early_. Tyrion had nearly fallen off his chair, the Tarth ship would arrive by early the next morning, and he wasn’t prepared for the consequences yet.Lost in his thoughts, Tyrion failed to notice that Jaime had opened the chamber door and was standing there looking at him perplexed, “Tyrion?“

 

“Oh!” Tyrion jumped and then laughed shakily.

 

“Is everything alright?” Jaime asked as he pushed his way passed Tyrion and made his way to the table to get some food. Tyrion noted that his brother seemed quite jovial, Jaime had even tossed him a smile as he had walked to the table.

 

“Yes, no, I mean, I have just had some news that might… Jaime?” Tyrion sighed and made his way to his brother, failing to notice the sudden silence. At his brother’s side, however, he noticed the slip of paper in his Jaime's hand.

 

“When does she arrive?” Jaime had gone pale, he flopped into one of the chairs, all thought of food forgotten.

 

“They weren’t due to arrive for another two days, but apparently the wind has been up and they will be here… this time tomorrow.”

 

“Were you going to tell me?!?” Jaime snapped, any good mood that he had had disappeared.

 

“Yes, in actually fact I was going to tell you over breakfast, but…” Tyrion wished that Manfred had brought wine with him as well.

 

“But?”

 

“Do you promise not to get angry at me?”

 

“Tyrion?” Jaime pushed himself higher in his seat and cocked his head to the side. A predatory gleam in Jaime’s eye made Tyrion shiver.

 

“I’m going to tell you something to do with Brienne, but you are not allowed to get angry, at me, or her, you’re not allowed to run away, I need you to stay… no matter how you feel about it.” Tyrion tried to look fierce back at his brother, but he knew if Jaime panicked at the news that there was nothing he and his short stature could do to stop Jaime leaving.

 

A flicker of real concern crossed Jaime’s face, “is Brienne okay? Is she unwell?… is she married to the new Lord Baratheon?”

 

“No, no, she is fine, more than fine really, and no, huh? NO, she isn’t married to the new Lord Baratheon, where did you ever get that idea? She, ah, no she’s not married…” Tyrion had no idea how to tell Jaime about Alys, he looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking.

 

“Tyrion!” Jaime barked at him.

 

Tyrion closed his eyes as he blurted, “you have a daughter Jaime, Brienne was pregnant when you left Winterfell, her name is Alys and she is three months old.”

 

All Tyrion heard after his outburst was a sparrow outside on the balcony singing loudly. Slowly he opened his eyes and observed Jaime. Looking deathly pale, Jaime’s left hand gripped the armrest of his chair, and he was staring at the fruit bowl as though his life depended on it. Tyrion watched with fascination as Jaime slowly rose from his seat and made his way to Tyrion’s chamber pot, flinging the cloth covering away from it in haste, and vomiting any and all scraps of food and bile out of his stomach. Grabbing one of the serviettes and dampening it with some water, Tyrion rushed to Jaime’s side and handed it to him to wipe his face. Jaime looked at him in shock.

 

“She can’t have been, I-“

 

“Please don’t say you were being careful, or that she was having moon tea every single day,” Tyrion said, moving to help his brother sit up on the bed.

 

“We weren't and she didn’t, who had time to think about that when-“ For the first time in his life Jaime blushed as red as Brienne ever had. He remembered their first time as though it was yesterday, he had dreamt about it often, _he had been so hard by the time they made it onto the bed he thought he might explode, he desperately wanted to taste her cunt, but knew he would probably embarrass himself if he so much as smelt her arousal. But he needed to know she was ready for him… this was so different from… his other times. As he looked her in the eyes, the trust he saw in them made him want to cry with relief and devotion, he slid his hand down her body and in-between her legs. She was so wet that his finger slid effortlessly into her. He watched fascinated as her pupils dilated and her breath hitched. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit, adding pressure with each swipe, Brienne’s mouth formed an oh and she pressed her face into his neck. He removed his hand and slid his body until he was cradled between her thighs. He carefully pushing into her, his eyes shuddering closed at the warmth and pressure, her voice pulled him back from the brink, “Jaime, Jaime, I…”_

 

“Yes, well… Jaime, she's going to be here soon and whilst I can’t tell you what to do; seven hells, Brienne believes you to be dead, if you want to see Alys, see Brienne, it would-“

 

Jaime shot to his feet and started to pace across the room, “I can’t , I can’t see them.”

 

“Why not? You came and saw me, I know you’re alive now, Ser Davos, Bronn, we want you back, Brienne, Brienne would give anything to have you back in her life, you know-“

 

“NO!, She can’t know, she can’t, I broke her heart, I’m just like the others, Hunt, Connington, the old cunt who wanted to mould her into some pious boring wife, she is better off without me, she always has been and she always will be.”

 

“You know that is not true, she loves you, and yes, I use the present tense, I saw her, only a few weeks ago, she seemed happy, outwardly, but we spoke, she is in agony still with grief, I meant it Jaime, she would give anything to have you back.”

 

Jaime stopped pacing, “you saw her?”

 

Tyrion nodded, “I did, when Alys was presented to the court in Tarth… King Bran legitimised the babe, she has been accepted as the heir of Tarth, and if I fail to have any children, she will also be the heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands. She is one entitled little lady, oh Jaime-“

 

“I can’t.”

 

Tyrion slumped his shoulders, “I want you to stay Jaime, I think you should stay, but I can’t force you.”

 

Jaime ran his hand over his beard, “I’ve damaged Brienne too much already, I can’t do the same to my, to my… I will go and pack.”

 

Tyrion held his hand out to Jaime, “stay, please, at least until dawn, they may be early, but unless they are intending to break any sailing records, they really won’t arrive and fully disembark till mid morning tomorrow, please Jaime, one more night for us brothers.”

 

Jaime nodded in agreement, one more night should do no harm.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say it nearly all the time, but honestly, your kind comments about my story are amazing, thank you so much, I am so so glad that you are enjoying my story, which is growing and shifting and changing and will hopefully continue to bring you joy. I am finding now that the characters are writing this themselves, what I think is going to happen isn't always happening now, but in a good way. This chapter was really hard to write, I love Jaime and having read some meta's about how he is a truly damaged character, possibly suffering PTSD, and really struggling with self esteem, this chapter, well, Jaime is almost there, but he will have setbacks. We are so close to his and Brienne's reunion that I can taste it... but I honestly am not sure how it will go right now, as I said, the characters are now writing this story and Brienne may not react as I currently expect... but then again, Jaime's reactions to things in this chapter were unexpected... anyway, enjoy, and please keep the comments coming.

 

 

 

Jaime had spent most of the day hidden in Tyrion’s chambers, occasionally sneaking onto the balcony to observe the royal household in the courtyard below. He had seen many people that he knew, and many that he didn’t know, there seemed to be a lot more northerners in the keep then ever before. Being alone for most of the day gave him plenty of time to think, to think about Tyrion, about Brienne, about his daughter. _I have another daughter, one I could acknowledge as mine, if I really wanted to_ , he thought back to the dream he had had three months ago, where Brienne had been holding a baby. He had told Elayne about the dream, but not how it had truly made him feel, the relief he had felt at Cersei being dead, the hidden joy he had felt towards Brienne, that there was a child, the secret hope that it was his. In the end it had been but a dream- _she is three months old_ \- that is what Tyrion had said, had he dreamed of the babe the night Brienne had birthed her? Despite his being adamant he didn’t want anything to do with Brienne or the baby, he shuddered with happiness at the thought that he may have known, that the Gods may have sent him that dream. Was it a sign, was it a punishment, or a reward, was this child his real chance for redemption… _should I stay_ , he wondered. His mind was turned into knots by the time Tyrion returned mid afternoon.

 

“I think I'll stay," Jaime said, the moment Tyrion walked in the door.

 

“You think?” Tyrion gave him an enquiring smile.

 

Jaime groaned as he turned away from his brother, “I don’t know, I… the baby changes things-“

 

Tyrion poured himself and Jaime some wine and stepped out onto the balcony, Jaime followed him, the bright sun made Tyrion squint, “How does the baby change things?”

 

Taking his cup from Tyrion, Jaime sighed, “I don’t know, I’m so confused right now… I-“

 

Jaime paused and hung his head. The sounds of footsteps and soft voices drifted up from the courtyard. “I, I never had the chance to be a father with Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen.”

 

“Nooooo, you didn’t, I had always thought you would make a good father, I could see the love there that you had for them. And though you were just their _Uncle_ you did try to guide them and protect them, as much as Cersei let you.”

 

Jaime scoffed, “I didn’t protect them, they all died!”

 

“And you blame yourself for their deaths?!?” Tyrion replied, rolling his eyes.

 

“What was that for?” Jaime snapped.

 

“What?”

 

“You just rolled your eyes! You don’t think it was my fault! Of course it’s my fault, all of it.”

 

Tyrion resisted the temptation to roll his eyes again, “you really do think that everyones fate is your responsibility don’t you? You think that everyone you have ever loved and cared about, you are responsible for their life or death. And here I thought I was the one with an ego the size of Balerion’s skull.”

 

“It is my fault! I should’ve tempered Cersei more-“

 

“You should've never fucked our sweet sister, that is what you should've done.”

 

Jaime turned on his brother, his left hand balled into a fist, his face turning red.

 

Just as angry as Jaime, Tyrion continued, “imagine, imagine how different this world may have been if you hadn’t fucked Cersei, if you hadn’t fathered her children, if-“

 

“If, if, if, is that all you can say? I loved her.” Jaime spat out.

 

“Of course you did, she was your twin sister! But when that sibling love tumbled over into the sick, twisted, sexual deviant kind of love, that is where your alarm bells should’ve gone off dearest brother.”

 

Jaime choked and turned quickly away from Tyrion lest he hit him in the face. “I loved her,” Jaime murmured.

 

“And look where that got you, almost dead, away from the only healthy love you have ever had in your life, away from a child that you can openly raise, and miserable,” Tyrion sighed as he sipped his wine. “Jaime, we spoke about it briefly at Winterfell, about Cersei, about her ability to manipulate you best of all. I still maintain you knew exactly what she was doing, but it, she, was family. That is what father taught us, it is why I was allowed to live, we had it drummed into us from birth, family takes precedence over everything else. That is why you returned to her… despite you being happier with Brienne.”

 

Jaime nodded, “how could I have let her die alone when I am just as hateful as she was.”

 

“But that is the point, isn’t it Jaime, the way that I see you, the way that Brienne sees, or rather saw you, you are not a hateful man, you are a conflicted, fucked up, loyal man with a heart so big that… you love, without conditions or prejudice, two of the most ugliest, most hated and mocked people in the Kingdoms - you are kinder than most of the fuckers out there, you are gentle for a soldier, you are a true defender of the innocent-“

 

“Except for the time I pushed Brandon Stark out the window.”

 

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders and suddenly looked unsure of himself, “yes… well, that was a mistake on your part, but it was done to protect three other children… and also confirms my original point, if you hadn’t been fucking Cersei in the first place-“

 

“Yes, yes, yes, I know, those three children wouldn't have existed, think of that brother,” Jaime poured himself some more wine. “And by the way, Brienne isn’t ugly, she is beautiful, have you even seen her eyes?”

 

Tyrion tried to hide his grin, “yes, yes she has the most astonishing eyes I have ever seen, and you still love her.”

 

Jaime shyly smiled back, “you said that already.”

 

“What?”

 

“You said that I love her, when you made the mistake of calling her ugly.”

 

“And do you?”

 

Jaime felt butterflies in his stomach, he felt as though he was about to reveal the sweetest, most purest secret of his soul, something he had been trying desperately to suppress since leaving Winterfell. “I adore her, she makes me want to be a better man, she is so gentle and full of love, she may look like the warrior, but underneath the armour she is as soft and ladylike as any maid. I do, I think I will always love her.”

 

“Then stay, stay, not just for Alys, or for me, but for Brienne. You say you damaged her, I understand that to mean that you took her virtue, her honour, but I disagree. You damaged her, yes, but you did it by leaving her for the darkness, for Cersei. We spoke, you know, about you leaving,” Tyrion watched Jaime for a response. Jaime look down and away, shame overtook his features, Tyrion decided to press on.

 

“She understood more than you think. She knew you left, not because you didn’t love her anymore, but because you didn’t feel you were good enough for her.”

 

Jaime nodded, “I’m not good enough for her, she is the only light I ever had in my life, she is the blazing sword to my dull, blunt blade, she deserves everything that will bring her happiness and that is not me.”

 

“Why can’t you let her decide that for herself? She is an independent woman, she is a mother, a knight, she will be the Evenstar eventually, she doesn’t need you, ultimately, to be happy, but shouldn’t she be the one to choose whether you are a part of this happy life or not? What gives you the right to make that choice for her?”

 

“And what gave you the right to have Ser Davos come to Duskendale and drag me back to King’s Landing to see you? I thought I was perfectly clear with Bronn that I didn’t want to come back,” Jaime countered.

 

“You seemed happy to see me though, and just half an hour ago you were saying you might stay,” said Tyrion.

 

“But that is… my choice,” Jaime sounded resigned. Tyrion had him, hook, line, and sinker. It always came down to choices, and how could he claim to want freedom for his own choices if he was unwilling to give the same claim to Brienne.

 

Tyrion smirked at him, “shall I order some dinner to be brought up? I believe the cooks have been basting wild boar for the past week and it should be ready to eat tonight.”

 

—

 

The sun was setting in the west, casting a beautiful red haze over the balcony where the brothers were sitting, having finished their dinner. It reminded Jaime of Lannister red, deep, rich, and luxuriant. For the first time since leaving Elayne and Olivar, Jaime felt content; he had informed Tyrion over dinner that a message had come from Olivar, the family were packing their things and were coming to visit, to pay their respects to the dead, and to meet Jaime’s brother. Tyrion had chuckled and said that he would be more than glad to meet the man and woman who had saved his brother’s life in so many different way. Out on the balcony, however, they were silent, listening to the people mingling below, and processing the afternoon they had had.

 

“I think, when the Tarth ship arrives tomorrow, you should stay here. I will arrange for a meeting with Brienne, as soon as possible, and I will tell her, prepare her,” Tyrion mused.

 

Nervousness pervaded Jaime’s contentment. Since deciding that he should see Brienne, for her sake, not his, he had felt a calmness wash over him. The calmness belied his concern though over her reaction to him being alive. Now that there was a possibility to meet again, Jaime had realised just how badly he wanted to see her, speak to her, touch her, _make love to her_ , he shuddered imperceptibly, the thought of being inside her again made his cock twitch and he had to cross his legs to try and hide his arousal. “Yes, that would be good,” Jaime replied.

 

Tyrion noticed Jaime adjust his breeches and body and grinned into his cup. He knew his brother, he knew that when Jaime was in love his love was enough to make him a randy bastard. Thoughts of his Lady could drive him to extremes, that the mere thought of his Lady could strike an erection so hard that he could squirm for hours, it amused Tyrion whenever his brother was like this. _By the God’s, the time he had spied Jaime trying to hide his erect cock when he stood next to Robert in the Sept, Cersei gliding down the aisle on father’s arm, her white gown fitting perfectly to her body, accentuating her curves, her eyes, not on her husband-to-be, but on her twin. Jaime had surreptitiously tried to close the front of his gambeson to hide the bump in his breeches. Tyrion had been only twelve years old and sitting in the front row of the sept and he had seen as clear as day what was going on. Cersei was imagining that it was Jaime she was about to be married to, and Jaime was imagining it was he who would bed the bride that night._

 

The first stars were appearing in the sky when a knock at Tyrion’s door interrupted their musings. Tyrion excused himself and made his way to the door. Jaime smiled into his cup as he heard Tyrion open the door and murmur to whoever it was. He had to admit, since reuniting with his brother, a lightness had entered his heart. He was glad, for the first time in a long time, to be alive. A conversation floated up from the courtyard that captured his attention, “Manfred, how are you?,” “I am good my Lady… and my Lady,” “Ha, she is a little Lady, that is for sure, is Lord Tyrion in his chambers? We arrived so much earlier then expected and my cousin has gone to pay her respects to the King, I’m in charge of this little one and I thought she might like to see her Uncle." 

 

Rising to his feet quickly, Jaime made his way to look over the railing, and froze. His heart sped up at what he saw, tears pricked his eyes, there in the courtyard was a high born lady talking to his brother’s man servant, asking if Tyrion was in his rooms, and in her arms was a baby. Swaddled loosely in a white wool wrap, the baby was smiling at Manfred, her little hand reaching for the shiny button on his coat, her golden blonde hair was curled over her forehead. She let out a screech of delight when Manfred held a finger out for her to hold and the lady laughed as she rocked the child. At the sight of the baby, Jaime knew it was Alys, Jaime felt his soul start to heal, this baby, this girl that was his and Brienne’s, she was hope personified, a future he never knew he could ever have.

 

“Jaime…. Jaime… oh seven hells!”

 

Jaime jumped slightly as Tyrion appeared at his side and looked down at the lady and the child. Not taking his eyes off the babe, Jaime managed to croak out her name, “Alys?”

 

“Yes… Jaime, no!” Tyrion said firmly as his brother turned to go down the stairs that led to the courtyard. Grabbing onto his brother’s sleeve he tugged hard, capturing Jaime’s attention.

 

“Let me go, let me go to her,” Jaime's voice cracked and the look in his eye was pleading.

 

Tyrion shook his head, “not yet brother, what will the Lady Dyana think if a strange man appeared out of nowhere and tried to grab Alys, you know you can’t, not yet… that was Ser Davos at the door telling me that the bloody Tarth ship has broken the sailing record from the Stormlands to the capital, by over twelve hours, apparently the wind whipping down Blackwater Bay was enough to drive the ship like the blazes.”

 

“Lord Tyrion!”

 

The brother’s jumped as Lady Dyana called out to Tyrion, having spied him on the balcony. Tyrion shoved Jaime into the shadows and waved down to Dyana, “my Lady, I am busy at the moment, take Alys back to Brienne’s quarters and tell Lady Brienne that I will be with her in an hour.”

 

Dyana smiled up at Tyrion, "of course my Lord, we will see you later- won't we little Alys, yes we will.. goodbye Manfred.”

 

Tyrion watched as Dyana disappeared through the archway and breathed a sigh of relief. Jaime sat in the shadow of the wall. Tyrion asked, “are you alright?”

 

Jaime looked at his brother, tears streaming down his face, "that is my daughter.”

 

Tyrion joined him, “yes, yes it is.”

 

“I’ve missed so much,” Jaime sobbed.

 

Tyrion felt his own throat close up and tears prick his eyes, “not too much, we can fix it, I will go and talk to Brienne tonight, you will get to meet Alys, I assure you-“

 

“I don’t want to just meet her, I want to be her father, I want to be in her life,” Jaime wiped at his eyes, a surety in his heart made him bold, Alys was his chance to be the father he always wanted to be, Brienne was his chance for the family he desperately wanted. “What if Brienne can’t forgive me? What if she keeps Alys away from me?”

 

Tyrion was astounded with Jaime’s turn around, at the beginning of the day and even before dinner Jaime had been prepared to flee, but one look at the child he had helped create, and he was ready to stay and confront the consequences of his decisions. “You know Brienne better than any of us, would she keep Alys from you?”

 

Jaime shook his head, “no, she wouldn’t, she is too kindhearted and fair for that, but I do not know if I could bear her scorn, her derision, her anger.”

 

“I think you should be prepared for a little scorn, derision, and anger, though hopefully not too much.”

 

Jaime paled at the thought, “I deserve it though…”

 

Tyrion patted his arm, “maybe, a little, but remember, Brienne isn’t Cersei, she won’t use her anger to manipulate or reject you… now, let me go and speak to her, to tell her.”

 

Jaime swallowed deeply, how he wished that Elayne was in King’s Landing already, if Elayne had been here she would know how to calm him, keep him distracted. But she wasn’t here and he would simply have to battle his own urges to turn and flee. He stood and watched, apprehensively, as Tyrion exited the room. Silence engulfed him. It was too late now for any people other than servants to be moving across the courtyard. The birds and bees had retired for the night; Jaime sat on the balcony looking at the stars above. _Will she come tonight, will she be too angry, too sad, too shocked_ , Jaime reached for some wine. He almost drained his cup before he stopped himself, it wouldn’t do to be drunk if Brienne did come; butterflies filled his stomach. Another voice fluttered up from the depths of his subconscious, a voice he hand’t heard for almost a year, _why would she come and see you, you don’t belong together, that great hulking cow of a woman, is she even really a woman, when you fucked her did she have a cock like you sweet brother?_

 

“NO!” Jaime stood, shaken, he ran into the chamber looking frantically around, her voice, Cersei’s, it had sounded as clear as day, like she was right there in the room with him. Her laughter filled his head, _I’m dead you idiot, as you should be, why did you live brother? Why did you live whilst I, your sweet sister and beautiful lover, died? That isn’t very fair is it?_ Jaime grabbed the jug of wine and filled his cup to the rim, he gulped it down like a man who had been lost in a desert without water, he filled the cup again. _There you go, that great big bitch said that you were nothing like me, let her see you now, in your cups, go on… drink some more, how wonderful it would be to have her open that door ready for a sweet reunion, only for you to disgust her with your drunkenness. She doesn’t really drink much does she? The first night you fucked her you had to get her drunk to even convince her to go through with it, didn’t you? Ha, who would’ve thought the beautiful Lannister Lion would have to get an ugly woman drunk before she would sleep with him._

 

“Stop IT!” Jaime threw the cup across the room. Panic filled his chest. Shutting his eyes he tried to picture Alys in his mind’s eye, the beautiful little babe that he had seen only an hour beforehand. _My, my, she is a beauty isn’t she, she looks just like me I think, I’m glad, glad she takes after us brother and not your ugly whore. Perhaps you can run away with her, snatch her from her mother’s arms and leave this shit hole for better climes across the Narrow Sea. Ahhhh, you could pretend she is our child dearest brother, how wonderful that would be, you could tell her that I, Cersei, the first of her name, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, was her mother…_

 

Jaime felt sick, this, this was why he couldn’t be around Brienne, around Alys, he was going mad. He had been going mad the moment he had decided in Winterfell to leave the woman he had come to love so deeply. It had been Cersei’s poison, her voice in his head that had finally driven him to accept his own hatefulness. He remembered so clearly the moment that he had known he had to go back to his sister. It was when they had had the news about the death of one of the dragons, the suggestion that Daenerys would destroy the city, would annihilate Cersei for what she had done. Cersei’s voice had come to him that evening as he had waited for Brienne to come back to their room, _What I had done brother - what you have done as well! You are the other half of my soul, we are one, you may be deluding yourself that you can stay with the “Lady” Brienne, but you don’t deserve her, you deserve as much happiness as I do, and I have none. Come back to me brother, come back to me so that we can face our punishment together…_ Perhaps it was the Gods idea of a joke, the man that had killed the mad King deserved the same fate, a descent into delusion and fear, a punishment worse then death.

 

The hourly bell rang in the distance, Tyrion had been gone for nearly an hour, if he was going to leave, he had to leave now. Jaime turned to go into his chamber to fetch his belongings, but the snick of the chamber door and a voice he now wasn’t sure he wanted to hear stopped him in his tracks, “Jaime?”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there folks, finally, finally here is the update we have all been waiting for... I feel really nervous about this one, do let me know what you think. Has Jaime made it through... will Cersei in his head leave him alone, and can he be a family with Brienne and Alys (I promise you, next chapter he will meet Alys... after a rather long walk and talk with Brienne. Enjoy peeps.
> 
> ps, Just a little note on my other story The Long Road Home, I have decided to take it down, I understand that people weren't happy with the direction it was going, and I had messed up the tags, and I do apologise wholeheartedly. Perhaps, in the future, once I have gone over it and made some changes, it will be put up again. Cheers!

 

 

Brienne had just returned, along with her father, from greeting King Bran in his quarters. It was always strange meeting this young man who really was no man at all, but some kind of supernatural being who could see the past, sense the present, and sometimes dream the future. King Bran had been just as mysterious as he always was, saying things that didn’t quite make sense, such as, _family is important, especially for Alys, she needs a lion to protect her_. Brienne had taken offence at this, though her father stopped her from blurting out the first thought that popped into her head, _she needs no Lion, she has me, and I am fiercer then any Lion could ever be_. The meeting had only lasted a few minutes before King Bran’s assistant declared the King had to sleep, and so Brienne and Selwyn were decisively dismissed.

 

As Brienne paced the room, rocking Alys to sleep in her arms, she felt unsettled. They had made such a quick journey to King’s Landing that she hadn’t had time to process the trip fully. She didn’t know how to act, how to be, what to say, especially to Tyrion, who Dyana had kindly informed her would be along to greet her before to long. Dyana had told her that Lord Tyrion appeared to have a guest with him, a tall, handsome looking man, though a little rough looking, who had leapt into the shadows when she had looked up at Tyrion’s balcony. Brienne had grunted a non-committal response, Tyrion’s guests were of no importance to her, and she wouldn’t have put it past Dyana having spied Bronn, he was rough looking, though she would never call him handsome.

 

“But who am I to talk my sweetling, hmmm? I am not beautiful by any account,” Brienne murmured to Alys. Aly’s eyes drooped and a tiny sliver of saliva dribbled down her lip. Brienne gently used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the drool. A soft tapping at the chamber door startled Brienne slightly and she frowned as Dyana opened the it. It was Tyrion, Brienne glanced a smile at him before handing Alys to Dyana and instructing her to place the sweet babe in her cot. Dyana took the babe and nodded farewell to Brienne and Tyrion. Tyrion nodded and then looked wearily at Brienne.

 

“My Lord,” Brienne said as she indicated for Tyrion to take a seat next to the fire. “How are you?”

 

Tyrion took his seat and contemplated Brienne as she took the chair opposite him, “I am well, very well, and you?”

 

Brienne frowned, “I’m… I’m okay, I, it’s nearly a year since-“

 

It dawned on Tyrion, _of course, it will have been a year since Jaime “died,”_ in discovering Jaime alive, Tyrion had forgotten that the rest of Westeros, including Brienne, still thought his brother dead. Tyrion looked at Brienne closely, she looked pale, her eyes were red from crying, and her general demeanour was sadness. How to tell her she need not grieve anymore… “where is your father, I would like to pay my respects?”

 

Brienne smiled and waved towards the chamber door, “he is in his rooms I believe, but he was extremely weary after the journey, can you pay your respects in the morning?”

 

“Of course, of course, um… yet,” Tyrion looked towards the door, he felt that it was only right to have Selwyn here, he didn’t know how Brienne would react to the news. “I am awfully busy tomorrow, I would rather see him now, if briefly.”

 

Brienne’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she slowly stood. Opening the adjoining chambers door she asked Dyana to fetch her father. Turning back to Tyrion she looked at him curiously. He was muttering to himself and waving his hands around as though trying to explain something to someone. “Tyrion, are you quite alright?”

 

Tyrion looked up and smiled, “yes, yes, of course, I just, I have some news, but I would like to wait until Lord Selwyn is with us, I believe it will be of interest to him as well.”

 

Brienne nodded as she sat down again, “good news I hope.”

 

Tyrion swallowed deeply, “very good news… or, at least I think so.”

 

Tyrion now understood how Bronn must have felt trying to tell him that Jaime was alive. As Selwyn entered the room, Tyrion was still trying to figure out how to say the words, so much so that it took Selwyn clearing his throat for Tyrion to realise that he was there.

 

“Lord Selwyn, it is good to see you.”

 

“And you Lord Tyrion, though I am certain we could have proceeded with pleasantries tomorrow, it has been a long day and a half my Lord and I am not so young anymore.”

 

It was at Selwyn’s implied inconvenience that Tyrion noticed the Lord was in a night shirt and dressing gown, with a very tired look in his eye. It was now or never, Tyrion didn’t want to risk pissing off the Lord and his daughter by denying them sleep. “Please Lord Selwyn, take a seat, I have some news that simply could not wait till morning, and… well, it is more, news for Lady Brienne, but I felt it would be better to have you here, Just-“

 

“Is it Queen Sansa? Is she okay?” Brienne leant forward in panic, forgetting that Tyrion had said it was good news he had.

 

“Oh, yes, Queen Sansa is fine, according to the last raven, she should be arriving tomorrow evening with her retinue, you can see her then, I am sure,” Tyrion replied hastily. “It is not to do with Sansa, but it is to do with you Brienne, and…”

 

“And?”

 

“And Alys.”

 

Silence engulfed the room. Brienne’s eyes darted between Tyrion and her father. Lord Selwyn simply rolled his eyes and gestured for Tyrion to get on with it.

 

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Tyrion’s voice became thready with nerves. “About a week and a half ago I had one of the suppliers from Duskendale complain about a tavern owner near the town… to cut a long story short, I asked Ser Bronn to investigate for me and hopefully sort out the issue…”

 

Selwyn glanced at Brienne and shook his head, Brienne shrugged her shoulders and said, “go on Tyrion.”

 

“When, well, when Ser Bronn was there investigating he met someone of interest to myself, and to you, Brienne,” Tyrion slid of his chair and came closer to Brienne. He took her hand in his and caressed the back of her wrist with his thumb. _Stay, please stay, she had begged as Jaime had raised his left hand to clasp her wrist, the only indication that he still cared being the gentle caress on her skin with his thumb_ , Brienne felt like crying. Tyrion looked closely in her eyes, Brienne bit her bottom lip, and saw, saw the truth he was implying.

 

“No!” Brienne gasped as she shook her head and tears filled her eyes.

 

Selwyn rose with concern, “what? What is it?”

 

Tyrion and Brienne kept their eyes on each other, as Tyrion replied, “Jaime, Jaime is alive.”

 

Brienne pulled away from Tyrion and burst into tears, she threw her arms around her father and sobbed into his chest, she didn’t know if she was crying from relief or fear. Selwyn rubbed his daughter’s back and frowned at the Hand of the King. “Explain to us Lord Tyrion, how? How? Why?”

 

“He was pulled from the rubble by a couple from Duskendale, they had come to the capital to help with the survivors, he a Maester and she a midwife. They took Jaime in and got him better, he was not in a good way… from what I can gather it was lucky he survived. They kept him on after he was better, he, he felt ashamed of everything he… had said, and had done, he stayed away because he thought we were better off without him.” Tyrion rubbed his face with his hands.

 

Brienne had stopped crying, the initial shock of the news abating slightly, she pulled away from her father and turned to Tyrion, “where is he? Is he in Duskendale?”

 

Tyrion smiled gently up at her, “no, he’s here, he’s in my chambers right now, right this second.”

 

Brienne nodded and looked shyly down at her clasped hands.

 

“Do you want to see him?” Tyrion peered up at her.

 

“Does he want to see me?” Brienne asked in return.

 

“He does, he… I told him about Alys, he saw her this evening, when-“

 

“It was Jaime, Dyana saw?” Brienne gasped.

 

“Yes… but my Lady, I need to know, will you see him?”

 

Brienne dropped to her chair and took a moment to sort through her feelings. For a year she had thought Jaime Lannister dead, the man she had given her heart to, the man who had accepted her and loved her like she never thought she would ever be accepted or loved. The man who had too much sadness in him that even she could not counter it with all of her happiness and love. She had never blamed him, she had known during their weeks together that she could not keep him, his sister was an ever present shadow to their joy in each other. Brienne had known she could never love another like the way she loved Jaime, but she had Alys, and that would be enough. But now, Jaime wasn’t dead, she didn’t have to grieve him anymore, _well, except for a missed year of love, togetherness, and becoming parents together_. Despite a small spark of anger and hurt, and a dose of confusion, relief and joy were the overwhelming emotions Brienne was now feeling. She now had a chance to have a family, _if Jaime wants to be a family_ , she had a chance to give Alys the only father she wanted to give her, _if Jaime wants to be a father to Alys_ , she knew she had to chance it. She had to see him. She had to talk to him. She had to touch him. _Oh, I want to hold him_ , her heart beat faster at the thought, and her breath shortened.

 

“I will see him, I want to see him now.”

 

Tyrion smiled in relief, “I must warn you my Lady, he has been conflicted, he is not completely at ease with being here-“

 

“But you said he wanted to see me?” Brienne looked scared.

 

“He does, but I honestly don’t know how he will react when he sees you, he is very conflicted about what is good for him and for you, and…” Tyrion grimaced.

 

“My sweetling, are you sure you want to see him tonight? Perhaps it would be best to wait until the morning?” Selwyn had been silent until now, absorbing the news and his daughter’s reaction. So Ser Jaime Lannister was alive, Selwyn knew this could become messy, but in his heart he wanted Brienne and the God’s forsaken man to marry. Though he had thrown his support behind his daughter and granddaughter wholeheartedly, it still hadn’t sat right with him that Brienne hadn’t been married to the father of her child. He saw, rather than felt, the hypocrisy in his position, he who had taken on mistresses over the years to ease his loneliness. But this was different, or so Selwyn saw it that way, he cared about, but never loved any of his mistresses, he never had children with his mistresses.

 

Brienne looked at her father sharply, how could he suggest not seeing Jaime, “I want to see him, tonight, I do, how can I not?”

 

Standing up Brienne indicated to Tyrion he should lead the way. Selwyn stopped her and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear, “no matter what happens, I am here, always.”

 

Squeezing his shoulders, Brienne kissed her father’s cheek, and then followed Tyrion out to the corridor.

 

—

 

Brienne felt like she was going to vomit as she approached Tyrion’s chamber door. Her heart was thundering in her chest like never before, she felt nervous, she hadn’t seen Jaime in over a year and she didn’t know what to expect. When Tyrion had told her Jaime was alive she felt she had stepped into a dream world. She had grieved, still grieved him, it had simply become a part of her life, something you don’t move on from, but that you learn to live with. And so, to try and understand and believe that she didn’t have to grieve anymore was hard. She gripped the wall as Tyrion went to open the door.

 

“Don’t,” she whispered, Tyrion turned to her in confusion. “I mean, can I go in alone?”

 

Tyrion nodded, “of course… I will wait out here, in case you need anything.”

 

With wet eyes, Brienne nodded her thanks, and stepped to the door. She rested her hand softly on it, taking a deep breath, she lifted the latched and pushed the door.

 

“Jaime…”

 

Jaime was standing near the door to the neighbouring chamber, she noticed a slight tremble in his hand, he seemed diminished somehow, as though he had been wasting away for the past year. He turned at her voice, and gazed at her; he fell to his knees. She stepped towards him, her hands outstretched, always there to catch him when he fell. It was then that she noticed tears streaming down his face and in his eyes love, so much love and fear mixed together.

 

Brienne fell to her knees in front of him. Jaime stared into her eyes, before he clung to her and buried his face into her neck, his tears dampening her shoulder and sleeve. His shoulders shook with such force that Brienne was worried she might drop him. Tears streamed down her own cheeks, he was broken, and she didn’t know how to fix it this time. When he had had his hand chopped off she had been his nurse, his confident, and most importantly his commander. In King’s Landing and Riverrun she had been his moral compass, his conscience, his motivator to do the right thing and keep his oaths. When he had come north to fight for the living she had sensed he was conflicted, from the moment she had stood for him in front of Daenerys, Sansa, and Jon. And when he had come to her, humbled and penitent, wanting to serve under her command, it was as if his goodness had finally won over the black stains his sister had left on his soul. Though she had still felt that something wasn’t right; he had followed her around Winterfell, eager to please, eager for praise. It was why she had been so confused at his lack of insults, insults that had become more like jests, jests to provoke a response from her that would make him laugh and smile. When he knighted her she had been hesitant, but so so grateful, and in that moment, on the brink of seeming death, she had felt that she could not have loved him more. The weeks after the long night had been like a miracle, the lightness he exuded was addictive, his love even more so; she had never thought she would ever _be_ with a man, but he gave her the choice, he respected her right to choose. Those weeks were perfect… and then he had left and they were broken.

 

“It’s alright Jaime, it’s alright…”

 

Her words only made him dig his fingers even harder into her back, the pain ricocheted up through her shoulder and neck, it felt like he was trying to climb into her skin. Brienne rubbed her hands up and down his back and nuzzled his hair. She breathed him in. It was a strange feeling, for the past year she had remembered, imagined, dreamt of him, and it had seemed as real as it possibly could. But to have him here, in her arms again, despite his weight loss, he was solid, his skin warm, she could see the pulse at his neck thundering away. Biting her bottom lip she held him tighter, if he wanted to climb into her skin, she wanted to climb into his.

 

Eventually Jaime stopped sobbing, he had not thought he would react this way to seeing her, especially as he had been about to flee, leave her again. But the moment he had heard her voice it was like a balm to the madness within, Cersei’s taunts faded, and need flooded in. Their whole acquaintance had been in segments, parts of a bigger picture, two separate paths marching side by side, only to meet at the most desperate of times. And in meeting at those most desperate of times, building a bond between then so tight, so entwined, that neither could imagine life without the other - until they had had to. Agony was etched into each others heart, a need that each had thought would never be filled again, a longing for each other that would never be satisfied. Until now. 

 

Clasping his shoulders, Brienne pushed Jaime away from her, so she could see him. Seeing his face made her want to cry again, _his dear dear face_ , leaning forward she rested her forehead on his. With her mind going a hundred miles an hour, she couldn’t settle on what to say, what to ask first, so it took her by surprise when Jaime spoke.

 

“I missed you,” Jaime’s voice cracked slightly, the fullness in his heart was overwhelming, he reached up to caress Brienne’s face. She leant into the slight pressure on her cheek and smiled.

 

“And I you.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, so, this chapter was starting to get insanely long, and so I decided to stop it where it finishes... and oh my heart, I teared up a little towards the end, cause - Jaime (pets head).... the next chapter may take a few days to get to you, my dissertation is due in a few days and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the next chapter is going to have that talk that Brienne has promised, and suffice it to say, I think it might end up being a bit explosive. There are going to be some home truths said in the next chapter regarding what both of them think of themselves and each other, there is a little glimpse of this in this chapter.

 

 

 

There hadn’t been an hourly bell for quite some time. Tyrion took that to mean that it was well past midnight. Trying to stifle a yawn, Tyrion glanced at the door to his chamber, he also hadn’t heard any sound coming from within for quite awhile. He had been debating with himself whether he should leave them be and find somewhere else to bed down that night, knock on the door and possibly wake them if they were asleep, or just barge in and possibly interrupt them talking, _or fucking_. That last thought made Tyrion shudder, it wasn’t that he didn’t want them to fuck, fucking meant that they had made up, perhaps sorted their differences, it was the fact that they might fuck on his bed that made him feel a little sick. Footsteps, and the sound of a man humming, made Tyrion look up. Bleary eyed, Tyrion grinned when Bronn came round the corner, a flagon of wine and two cups in his hands.

 

“How did you know?” Tyrion reached for one of the cups as Bronn sat down next to him.

 

“Ah, well that’s the trick, isn’t it, I fucked Madeleyne last night-“

 

“My maid?” Tyrion raised his eyebrows.

 

“The one and only, and since then she thinks she’s in love with me, so much so she came running to me an hour ago-“

 

“For a fuck.” Tyrion said matter a factly.

 

“Will you stop interrupting me! But yes, we had another go around, and at the end she told me that you were sitting here, all alone, outside of your chamber, and that she couldn’t fathom why you would do that… I knew, figured it out as soon as the words left Madeleyne’s mouth. So… I got lucky tonight, think Jaime is too?” Bronn popped the cork out of the flagon with his teeth, spitting it away, and poured them some drinks.

 

“You know, once you are married, you are going to have to stop fucking other women.” Tyrion groused.

 

Bronn looked at Tyrion as though he had just asked him to cut his cock off, “what utter rubbish, all men fuck other women, especially once married. My wife would be expecting me to maybe have a mistress, or two, and a few whores on the side.”

 

Tyrion drained his wine and gestured for Bronn to fill his cup again, “I think you will find, good man, that your wife will think the opposite.”

 

“I, what?” Bronn spluttered. “Your so wrong, so, so, so, wrong, what do you know about marriage anyway?… er, forget I said that.”

 

“I’ll try,” Tyrion muttered, glancing at his chamber door again.

 

“Why don’t you just knock?”

 

“I have thought about it, and... I would rather just wait until Ser Brienne leaves on her own accord,” Tyrion replied, gesturing for another top up.

 

“I don’t think she’ll be leaving anytime soon you know. Them two, sheesh,” Bronn winked at Tyrion as he tipped the flagon up, to only be disappointed when only a little wine dribbled out.

 

“Them two what?” Tyrion gazed disappointingly at the little wine left.

 

“Trust me, as soon as she walked in the door, they stripped each other bare and have been at it like rabbits for… when did you fetch Ser Brienne?”

 

A door down the corridor creaked open, a venomous voice hissed at them to shut up.

 

“All right, all right, we’re leaving, come on then Lannister, let’s go to the Sails Delight Inn, it will be the only place next to the Red Keep that’s still open, and I don’t know about you, but I need more than what's left of this pissing little amount of wine,” Bronn stood and cocked his head towards the other end of the corridor.

 

Tyrion gazed at his door again as he stood, “about two hours, they have been in there for about two hours.”

 

“See, not enough time for fucking the balls off him and the tits off her, they haven’t seen each other for a year, she believing him dead, they’re goin’ to be at it all night, lucky them.”

 

The person’s door opened again, and this time, even more forcefully, insisted that they ‘fuck off.’

 

“All right all right, we’re going,” Bronn grabbed Tyrion’s shoulder and directed him down the corridor. “There’s nothing for it friend, let’s go get drunk.”

 

—

 

The nightingale had taken up her song, a sure sign that spring was well and truly on its way, though there was still a chill in the air at this late hour. Jaime and Brienne were sitting on the balcony floor, their backs leaning against the cool stone wall, their shoulders touching. They had spoken about so many things already, Brienne taking Pod with her to Tarth, the birth of Alys, how dear Dyana and Selwyn had welcomed Brienne home with open arms; Jaime had interjected at that point, to exclaim that he would forever be in their debt for what they had done for Brienne and Alys. Brienne had smiled at him then and asked him what it had been like at Duskendale. He told her about Elayne and Olivar, about getting a job at the tavern, about the murderous Christor. They spoke about all the light things, the things they had done and seen, but they avoided the things they had felt, the fears they each held toward each other, Jaime’s anxiety, and Brienne’s unmitigated grief. When they reached the end of the lightness, they fell silent. Brienne, desperate to not talk about Cersei, or Winterfell, or what would happen now, _I’m not ready to face any of that_ , glanced at Jaime’s hook and leapt on the chance to keep the conversation light.

 

“Who made the hook for you? I am sure it is much more useful than-“ Brienne stopped and kicked herself, here she was trying to avoid any allusion to the woman that had almost destroy their lives, and she had raised the spectre of Jaime’s gold hand. Biting her lip, she glanced at him, tried to read his face. But he was smiling, his fingers caressing the steel hook and cuff.

 

“The local blacksmith, near… near where I live,” Jaime replied, ignoring the near reference to his sister and his golden hand. It felt strange for him, sitting next to Brienne, after so long of believing that he would never see her again, be near her again, _it is like a dream, perhaps I am dreaming_. Jaime decided to test if he was in a dream or not, and pushed his sleeve up and pinched the skin, above his hook, hard. He yelped with the pain. Brienne’s hand suddenly appeared, pushing his left hand away.

 

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

 

Jaime looked at her, biting his lip, “I thought, perhaps, I was dreaming.”

 

“So you decided to cause yourself pain, Jaime…” Brienne looked to see if the pinch was going to bruise, but it wasn’t the blossoming red mark that made her gasp, but the criss cross of scars across his forearm. Gently, she ran her fingers across them, her lips thinned as she tried not to cry.

 

Jaime pulled his arm back and pulled the sleeve down, “don’t, don’t worry about it.”

 

“You tried to kill yourself? You tried to take your life? When? Why?” The tears Brienne had tried to repress were now freely falling, she reached up to wipe them away, but they were simply replaced by more.

 

“Don’t cry,” Jaime whispered, reaching up to cup her face.

 

“Don’t cry?” Brienne snapped, pushing his hand away. “How can I not cry? You hate yourself so much that you wanted to take your life, firstly with your sister and then… you are my life, you were taking my life as well!”

 

“But I wasn’t! I did it for you-“

 

Brienne stood up so quickly Jaime almost snapped his neck looking up at her. “Don’t you dare say that, you didn’t do that for me, if you wanted to do anything for me it would’ve been to come back to me- I needed you!”

 

“You are better off without me,” Jaime murmured, looking down to pick at a loose thread on his tunic. Brienne dropped to her knees and cupping his face, forced him to look at her, a reflection of that night so long ago in Winterfell.

 

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” replied Brienne, her face had softened, she could see the pain in his eyes, the tiredness, he had fought his demons for so long, and everyone had limits. Reaching up, his fingers circled her wrist, and he stroked her skin with his thumb.

 

“If I had stayed in Winterfell I don’t think I would’ve made you happy-“

 

“But I was!” Brienne sobbed.

 

“I’m tired,” Jaime said, leaning his head back, closing his eyes. Calming down, Brienne sat back on her haunches and studied him. For years she had had a battle with herself when it came to Jaime Lannister. From the first moment they met she had loathed him, thought him odious, believed rumour and hearsay, ultimately understanding that some of it was fact. When they had started their journey south he had goaded her, teased her, insulted her, and yet, a time or two, she had seen a glint in his eyes when he would look at her. Sometimes a teasing comment sounded, not hurtful, but almost flirtatious. She had dismissed it, believing he was projecting onto her his craving for Cersei, though she had thought it a ridiculous thought, _Cersei was the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and I am the ugliest_. Him defending her from rape had been the tipping point. The guilt she felt, when he had had his hand chopped off by Locke, had eaten at her for years. If only he hadn’t defended her. It was then that she recognised the spark of goodness in him, a spark that became a raging fire when he revealed to her the truth of himself, what happened that day with Aerys. She saw his truth and she accepted it, had in the baths in Harrenhall to now, and she knew that she would accept it until the day she died. And she loved him for his truth, for who he really was, behind the spectre of Cersei and the name Lannister.

 

Moving forward, she sat back down again, next to his legs, facing him. Leaning with her right hand, she shifted until she was right up in his face. With her left hand she ran her fingers through his hair, smiled when she ran a finger tip around the shell of his ear, _Alys’ ear twin_ , and cupped his jaw. He was a wonder, it was a miracle that he was here at all, and as angry as she had felt, as hurt and doubt had plagued her over the year, she still loved him, always. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

 

“Gods know what time it is, but I suspect the sun will rise in a few hours, we’re both exhausted, let’s talk some more tomorrow… and, I can bring Alys with me,” Brienne glanced down, unsure if seeing Alys was something he was ready for yet. Suddenly, she felt the graze of his stubble brush her cheek and then his lips press against hers. It was like being transported back in time. _Two weeks, it had been two weeks since Jaime had come to her chamber and fucked her to the heavens and back. She couldn’t believe it, how her life had changed, how close they had come to not having this. Either one of them or both of them could have died during the battle with the living dead, and she really didn’t want to think about that, especially when they were sitting in the tub together. Jaime was pressing the lightest of kisses on her neck, down to her shoulder, back up her neck, across her chin and eventually landing on her lips. It wasn’t the passion filled kisses of open mouths and tangled tongues, it was gentleness and love and care and kind want, and everything that Brienne had craved for years._

 

She pulled away from him, he followed, she had to place her hand on his shoulder and push him back. “We need to sleep, Alys will have missed a feed, and is no doubt driving Myrtle up the wall… I need to go,” Brienne whispered.

 

“Don’t, please,” Jaime whispered back. He reached up and grasped her arm, trying to pull her closer. “I don’t want to be alone.”

 

Jaime panicked when Brienne didn’t respond and stood up. He felt like he was going to be sick. Cersei’s voice in his head had abated since Brienne had arrived, and he was terrified that she would come back if he was left alone. He knew he shouldn’t have come here, he should’ve told Bronn and Davos to fuck off, _I’m a fuck up, an idiot, I really am the stupidest Lannister, why would Brienne want me back, I can’t be a good father_. His stream of self deprecating thoughts were interrupted by Brienne’s hand appearing in his field of vision. He grasped it and stood up. She didn’t let go and simply walked through Tyrion’s chamber and out into the corridor. She didn’t let go until she arrived at her chambers and opened the door. They both stepped into the room. Her large bed sat near the arch window, a dining table and chairs were near the fireplace, a lounge flush against the opposite wall. A hungry wail came through the the door that led to the neighbouring chamber. Jaime swallowed as he turned to the door. Brienne thought he was going pass out, he looked so terrified. _What has happened to you Jaime?_ Glancing at the door, she stepped up to Jaime and smiled gently at him. Her breasts were aching at the sound of Alys crying for her, she even felt a little milk leak out, and crossed her arms to cover them. 

 

“You sleep here," Brienne said, nodding to the bed. "I have to go feed Alys, and I’ll… um, sleep in her room, we can speak more in the morning.”

 

Jaime nodded, “yes, that would be good… Brienne?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I did want to stay, believe me when I say that.”

 

Brienne just stood there looking at him, there was only one thing she could ask in reply, “well, why didn’t you?”

 

“I…” Jaime faltered over his response, he didn’t know how to explain it to her, _how do I explain what I can’t fully understand myself_.

 

In the ensuing silence, Alys’ wail in the background got louder, Brienne glanced back at the door, as much as she wanted to stay and discuss this with Jaime, she now had other, more pressing responsibilities. If Jaime was to be back in her life he would have to get used to her spending a lot of time with someone who, quite frankly, needed her time more than he did.

 

“We can talk more in the morning,” Brienne said quietly. “There’s a sleeping shirt in that trunk you can change into… I, I hope you sleep well.”

 

—

 

Brienne was exhausted as she took a crying Alys from Myrtle, She felt as though she was going to collapse on the spot, fall down dead, so much so she almost handed Alys back to Myrtle. Physically she was tired from the boat journey, emotionally she felt so much, too much, she felt shock, sadness, guilt, hurt, kindness, care, love, gratitude. She could barely believe that only a few hours beforehand she had believed Jaime dead. In fact, her heart still held onto the deep clawing grief that had hovered behind her for a year now. It confused Brienne, to feel this grief and intense longing, whilst knowing he was just in the room next door, warm, solid, and so so alive. The moonlight shone through the window as Brienne took the deep, soft, arm chair next to it. Cradling Alys in one arm, she unbuttoned her tunic and exposed a breast. Alys could smell the milk, and reached out, grasping Brienne’s skin.

 

“Shhh, shh, here you go sweet one,” Brienne whispered as Alys latched on to her nipple. Relief flooded her body as her child fed. And all she could think of was Jaime, just on the other side of the wall. Running her finger over Alys’ ear, as she was want to do, Brienne smiled. Alys, still suckling away, looked up at her mother and let out a grunt. “I have news sweetling, your father is alive… and he is right through that door over there… he isn’t… in the best way, and as much as I know you will want to meet him, I am not sure if it is a good idea yet. What do you think?”

 

Alys popped off Brienne’s nipple and made an “ahhhhhhh” sound, before starting to grumble again. Brienne shifted her to the other side and popped her onto her other breast. Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes, _just for a minute, I just need to close them for…_

 

—

 

Sunlight streamed in the arched window, slanting across the room, cutting across the bed like a knife. Jaime groaned as he rolled onto his back, reaching up to rub his eyes, he still felt tired, but whatever sleep he had got had been the best he had had since Bronn had discovered him in Duskendale. Slapping his bare chest and rubbing his chest hair, he opened his eyes, and nearly leapt out of his skin. Standing at the edge of the bed was a tall man, very, very tall, taller than the Clegane’s had ever been. The man was bulky as well, solid, and he had the most impressive white beard and head of hair. And he had the bluest eyes, and the deepest frown, eyes and a frown that Jaime had only ever seen on one other person, and that person he had fallen in love with, fucked, gotten with child, and abandoned.

 

The man cleared his throat, “where is my daughter?”

 

Pushing himself upright, Jaime tried to get out of the bed, but the man was blocking his way, and made it obvious he didn’t intend to move. “Er, um, I think she’s next door,” Jaime replied, nodding with his head to indicate the next chambers door.

 

It was at that point that Jaime realised the man was observing, and judging, his state of undress. When Jaime had stripped off only hours earlier, to go to bed, he had decided he was too exhausted to do more than just leave his breeches on. Reaching down, Jaime slowly dragged the sheet up his torso, he felt like a shy maid trying to preserve her modesty. Jaime looked up, and the man turned around, when the other chambers door creaked open slowly. Brienne appeared, gently closing the door behind her, and turning round, a soft smile on her face. Which fell quickly upon seeing her father.

 

“Father? What, um,” Brienne stuttered, hovering near the door, her face turning redder every second. After falling asleep in the chair, with Alys cradled in her arms, she had woken only when Alys had started wriggling and grumbling again for more food. The sun had been well up and the hourly bell had gone, and she had glanced at the door, wondering if Jaime was still on the other side. Brienne had quickly nursed her daughter, before handing her to Myrtle to wash and dress, freshened herself up and then quietly come in the door, to find her worst nightmare coming to life.

 

A tap on the door made her jump, turning around she opened it to find Myrtle trying to make her way in with Alys in her arms. Panicking, Brienne tried to shut the door, but suddenly her father appeared behind her, booming that he wanted to say good morning to his granddaughter. _This isn’t the way it’s meant to go_ , Brienne thought as she was gently pushed out of the way, _but has anything in my life gone the way that I wanted it to go_. She couldn’t bear to turn around and see what Jaime was doing. She could only watch at Myrtle stepped into the room and handed Alys to Selwyn. Myrtle glanced at Jaime, then Brienne, then curtsied to Selwyn before stepping quickly back through the door with a smirk on her face.

 

Selwyn placed a dozen kisses on Alys’ plump cheek, making her smile and giggle as his beard tickled her nose. Brienne smiled at the sight, and then jumped out her skin for a second time, when a loud bang on the chamber’s main door interrupted them. _What now_ , Brienne sighed, as she went to open it. Tyrion burst in with a look of sheer terror on his face.  
  
“Brienne! Have you seen my brother, have you seen Jaime?” Tyrion looked around wildly, his eyes finally settling on Jaime, who had quietly put his shirt and boots back on, whilst all the drama was unfolding. Tyrion stomped up to him and whacked his leg. “Do you know how worried I was? When I got back to my quarters this morning and you weren’t anywhere to be found! I nearly, I nearly-“

 

“It was my fault,” Brienne interjected. “He, uh, he didn’t want to… we didn’t know where you were and I thought it best he come and stay here.”

 

“In your bed chamber? Daughter did you not think of propriety?” Selwyn asked, jiggling Alys up and down in his arms. Jaime tried not to laugh at the sight of a man such as Selwyn acting like a nurse maid; but when his eyes settled on Alys, he could not help the surge of happiness, reflected in the dreamy smile appearing on his face.

 

Brienne turned back to her father, feeling furious at the insinuation, “well father, it’s a bit late for that isn’t it, you are holding the results in your arms! Give her here.”

 

Grabbing her child from Selwyn’s arms, Brienne went over to the main door, opened it, looked at Selwyn and Tyrion, and said, “get out, both of you!”

 

Glancing at each other and then at Jaime, they both walked through the door, Tyrion with an amused grin on his face, and Selwyn shamefaced. Once they were out Brienne shut the door firmly and then leant her forehead against it.

 

“Are you okay?” Jaime asked from where he was standing.

 

“No,” she whispered. She looked down at her baby, who, despite the drama unfolding around her, was sleepily closing her eyes, feeling safe and warm in her mother’s arms. “Yesterday I thought you were dead, yesterday I thought I knew my place in this world, I thought that I knew what the future would be, and now I don’t, and I am tired and confused, and happy and sad, all at the same time.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Brienne sighed and turned around, shifting Alys slightly in her arms, “it’s not your fault… well, not all of it.”

 

“No… I suspect Tyrion knew I was in here, I suspect he tipped your father off, and then he came in to admire his handiwork… he’s never been a very good actor,” Jaime chuckled, before stopping abruptly, and looking quite astounded that he had been able to jest and laugh. Though he had had moments with Elayne and Olivar of amusement, there had always been the heavy undertow of self hate and immeasurable dread. But in that moment Jaime could honestly say he felt… not good, but certainly lighter.

 

Acknowledging his jest with a tentative smile, Brienne moved towards him, “well, I know I was going to introduce you to her, but she seems to have gone to sleep.”

 

They both looked down at the baby in her arms, her pale eyelashes flush against her chubby cheeks, which were rose pink against the general snowiness of her skin. Her golden curls were thick on her forehead and around her ears, and every now and then her lips pursed. Brienne found she was watching Jaime more than the baby. She watched the initial look of fear slide into one of pain, and then sadness, wonderment followed realisation, and then finally a determined look appeared. He looked up, “I know she’s asleep, but… I, I never got the chance to hold…”

 

Brienne had never wanted to kiss him more, but it wasn’t the time for that, and despite Jaime’s kiss last night, she wasn’t sure yet if it would ever be time for kissing Jaime Lannister ever again. However, giving him the chance to hold his baby, a privilege he had never had before, she could give him that.

 

“Do you want to stand or sit, or…”

 

“Um, I will sit,” Jaime glanced around trying to decide where was best to sit. In the end he chose the edge of the bed. Brienne approached him, crouched down, and deposited Alys in his waiting arms. He swallowed thickly as he felt the weight of his daughter in his arms. His mind couldn’t help but flicker back to Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, the children that he hadn’t been allowed to hold, love, or treasure. But Alys, Alys was his chance, and he realised he intended to take it. Alys jolted slightly in his arms, her little mouth opening for a second, before settling again and making a sucking motion. Her arm moved up and outwards, as though in her dreams she was reaching for something, and when it came back down her fingers found his hand and they firmly wrapped around his thumb. _She is beautiful, she is the best thing I have ever done, with the best woman in the entire Six Kingdoms, she is mine and I am hers._

 

“She is mine and I am hers,” Jaime murmured, as he looked up. Brienne smiled at him, tears streaming down her face.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... looks like Jaime and Brienne are going to take awhile to talk their issues out, cause, well, life is getting in the way, in the form of baby, brother, father, and each other... enjoy!

 

 

Brienne had taken a seat next to Jaime on the bed, and was gently running her fingers through Alys’s hair. As she leant forward to place a kiss on the baby’s head, Jaime leant forward to briefly bury his nose in Brienne’s hair, he had noticed that she had let it grow out a bit. As Brienne sat back, Jaime really took her in, observed the changes in her. She looked more rounded in the face, and though there was a sadness in her eyes, she wasn’t dressed in her usual frown and clenched jaw. There was a lovely softness about her, _motherhood has changed her, perhaps for the better, but I wonder if she still has a spine of steel_. His eyes dipped lower, taking in the more obvious swell of breast she had developed, he liked it, _more to hold onto_. Jaime huffed a laugh that unsettled Alys.

 

“What?” Brienne asked, reaching to take Alys off him. Eyes widening, Jaime twisted away from Brienne, clutching his daughter tighter to his chest.

 

“Nothing, nothing… I just, I was admiring the changes in you,” Jaime soothed, glancing back down at Alys.

 

“Changes?” Brienne now sported her infamous frown, the line so deep between her eyebrows it put Jaime in mind of a deep crevice. She looked down at herself, as though to check for any obvious disparities in her appearance that she had failed to notice. “I haven’t changed.”

 

Nodding his head, Jaime turned back towards her, “yes you have, you’re… softer somehow.”

 

_Well, that was the wrong thing to say_ , Jaime thought as Brienne’s face reddened and her already deep frown deepened, and her jaw clench was back. Jaime waited tensely for the rant he was sure was coming.

 

“Soft? SOFT? I know I haven’t been able to spar much or do much more exercise, but I have had a child, and besides, I did spar with Pod last week, and I beat him, soundly, despite my lack of training, and-“

 

Jaime started laughing and Brienne stopped her monogue and looked at him mortified. This Jaime was a different Jaime to the sad, lost, pathetic one of last night, and Brienne didn’t know how to respond. This Jaime, in front of her right now, holding their daughter, was the Jaime of Winterfell, when they first started their love affair. A spark of hope lit in her chest, _perhaps he isn't all lost, perhaps there is hope for us to be a family_.

 

A knock on the door interrupted them, it was Tyrion back again, and they both turned as he stuck his head in. Jaime still laughing and Brienne still frowning. Tyrion stepped in, an amused look on his face, “ah, good to see you are both back to your usual selves.”

 

“What does that mean?” Brienne said, reaching she gently pulled Alys out of Jaime’s arms and stood. Instead of appearing jolly with laughter, Jaime now looked deflated, his arms felt inconsolably empty. Brienne sighed at his pout.

 

Tyrion, still looking amused, walked over to the table for some some water, “you’re going to have to get used to playing second fiddle brother, my beautiful niece now takes all of your lady’s attention, better get used to it.”

 

Ignoring Tyrion, Brienne turned to Jaime, “I, she needs to be fed and put down for a nap and-“

 

“It’s fine, I know, she needs her mother,” Jaime interjected. As he watched Brienne disappear through the door into the other room, he had to resist the urge to get up and chase after them. His eyes lingered on the door.

 

“Well, things seem to be good between you both,” Tyrion said, placing his empty glass back onto the table. “Shall we head back to my chambers? You can have a bath, freshen up, have something to eat, it’s nearly lunchtime you know. I believe the Summers will be here soon.”

 

Jaime nodded as he stood up and stepped towards the other chambers door, “I, uh, I should just tell Brienne where I am going.”

 

“I’m sure she would figure it out, Jaime-“

 

But it was too late, Jaime had already knocked on the door and poked his head in. A horrified gasp came from someone, Tyrion guessed Myrtle, and he heard the soft, but directive tone of Brienne. Jaime told her quickly where he would be, Tyrion heard an affirmative grunt, and then Jaime shut the door and turned to his brother.

 

“She wasn't too impressed you barging in like that was she?” Tyrion asked, Jaime shook his head. “Well, I know you're eager to play happy families right now, but slow and steady brother, you have to give her time to adjust to you being here, especially when she has her tits out feeding her baby.”

 

Jaime scuffed Tyrion over the head, “don't mention her breasts again.”

 

Tyrion laughed as he led his brother into the corridor, “I said tits, but I promise you, I will never ever mention Ser Brienne’s breasts.”

 

—

 

Bathed, dressed, and fed, Jaime was sitting back out on Tyrion’s balcony. They had agreed that they would keep his “aliveness” and visit to the city under wraps for awhile, there were many people that were pleased to know Jaime was dead, to have him suddenly alive again could bring swords out. 

 

“That is very kind of you brother, but I am certain, with Bronn knowing I’m here, that my being alive won’t stay secret for long,” Jaime said, taking a deep mouthful of water. “By the way, what is with the water, where is the wine? Or ale?”

 

Tyrion raised his eyebrows, “have you become a drunkard since you’ve been in self imposed exile? Don’t tell me that is the legacy our sweet sister left you with.”

 

“No! She…” Jaime gulped, since last night, Cersei’s voice had faded, and Jaime had enjoyed the silence. He had not realised how much she had still been embedded in his psyche. The past year with the Summers, she had been there, quietly, like a clinging grief for something that he finally realised he hated. And he did hate her, Jaime realised that now, that he had hated her for years, for what she had done, to him, to Tyrion, to Myrcella and Tommen, and even to a certain extent Joffrey, though Joff had been special, in his own not good way. The only way he could explain it to himself, make sense of it at all, was that, as his twin, Cersei was intrinsically a part of him, and that that was something he would have to learn to live with.

 

“She was a bitch, of the first degree,” Tyrion spat out, jolting Jaime from his musings. “Don’t look at me like that, she was, she hated everything and everyone because she couldn’t be them or have what they had. You know as well as I do, if she had won, if she had survived, she would’ve swallowed the world whole, destroyed it, destroyed everything that was good. She would’ve destroyed Brienne and baby-“

 

“Please don’t say it, the thought of that sweet baby…” Jaime felt sick at the thought. But he knew Tyrion was right. If events had turned out differently, if he had returned to Kings Landing and Cersei had won over Danaerys, Cersei would’ve found out about him and Brienne. Jaime baulked at the forms of torture Cersei would’ve unleashed had she ever gotten her hands on Brienne. If she had gotten her hands on Alys.

 

“See, you knew what she was, and yet you still returned to her, why?” Tyrion asked earnestly. On Tyrion’s part, ever since he had found out about Brienne being with child, he had felt guilty that he had helped Jaime escape into the city, that he had encouraged Jaime to try and get Cersei out to safety. This guilt had only intensified with the birth of Alys and the extreme love he felt her - he would die for that child, he would kill for her.

 

“No, no no no no no, you know what she was to me… she wasn’t just…” Jaime hesitated, though he knew the whole world knew, that his brother knew, “my lover, she was my twin sister, she was my everything for almost all my life. It wasn’t fair to leave her to her fate.”

 

Tyrion scoffed, “I don’t believe that-“

 

“What?” Jaime frowned.

 

“That she was your entire world, you had dreams, desires, goals you wanted to achieve, you loved me, you were a good brother, most of the time, what about your friendship with Addam Marbrand? And leaving Cersei to come north, to do the right thing and fight for the living, alongside your supposed enemies… which leads me to Brienne. If Cersei had really been all that mattered then why did you fuck Brienne? Hmmm? I thought you were happy.” Tyrion cocked his head to the side, questioning his brother.

 

Staring straight ahead, Jaime’s familiar sharp smile emerged, “Why didn’t you stop me then?”

 

Tyrion grimaced, his brother wasn’t as stupid as Cersei always made him out to be, he tried to edge around the issue, “I… um, what do you mean exactly? Why didn’t I stop you fucking the great love of your life?”

 

“Don’t give me that, you know exactly what I meant,” Jaime snapped. He was feeling angry now, angry at Tyrion, angry at Cersei, angry at himself, _what kind of fucked up family were we_.

 

Tyrion prayed to the Gods that Brienne or Davos, or even Bronn would show up and interrupt them. But he had no such luck. He wasn't sure how to explain how he had felt in that moment, in the tent, about to release Jaime, without sounding like a hypocrite. “I… um, in regards to you, if, if you had remained a prisoner I have no doubt that you would've been executed as soon as.. well, we were expecting to win, and Danaerys would've had Drogon… you get the picture. Releasing you was protecting you-“

 

Jaime looked at Tyrion incredulously. _Is my brother making himself out to be my saviour?_

 

“-and, I knew, I knew that you were going into the city, no matter what, the moment I released you, I had to at least try and help you live!”

 

The brother’s fell silent, each contemplating what the other was saying. Jaime felt conflicted. At the time, in the tent, being captured, on the horse ride south, destroying Brienne’s heart, watching her sleep in their bed, hearing Sansa say she was disappointed she would miss out on seeing Cersei executed, he had wanted the memories of all that he had done, in the name of his sister, to end. The only way to end them was to end it, with her, any way possible. At the time, riding south, he didn’t know whether he would kill Cersei and then take his own life, or force her to surrender and have them both be executed, or simply walk into the inferno, whether wild or dragon fire, with her. He had had no thought of trying to save her, or himself. So when Tyrion had suggested that he get Cersei and then leave, flee to Pentos, he had an option opened to him that meant life. But life, by this time, had meant Brienne and peace, light and innocent love, fucking without the fleeing bed chambers after the act, fucking without an ounce of guilt, and fucking knowing that if you wanted to marry the person you were fucking you could. Fucking Brienne meant freedom.

 

“Fucking Cersei was like having a chain wrapped around my chest, dragging me down into the darkness… I had a dream once, where Cersei’s light went out, and she didn’t wait for me, she left me, alone in the darkness, but then Brienne was there, and her sword was alight, and she kept me safe,” Jaime murmured.

 

“Okay, I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but-“ Tyrion replied.

 

Jaime laughed, “I’m telling you because I feel like you should know, and… and maybe Cersei and I were never meant to die together-“

 

“Well that much is obvious!”

 

“-and in actual fact, I am meant to live, and…” Jaime looked down, lifted his sleeve, and ran his fingers over the scars on his right arm. “I want to be a family, with Brienne and Alys… but I don’t think Brienne does.”

 

“What gives you that impression? Because I think you are wrong,” Tyrion leant forward, curious.

 

“Um,” Jaime shrugged and raised his eyebrows, “I kissed her last night and she didn’t reciprocate.”

 

Jaime had never heard his brother laugh so loudly before. In fact, Tyrion was laughing so hard that he fell off his chair, crashing onto the floor. This only made him laugh harder. Jaime felt and looked affronted, he didn’t think that his disaster of a relationship with Brienne was a laughing matter. All Jaime could do was sit there in astonishment until his brother calmed down and managed to get himself back into the chair.

 

“Oh… oh boy, your funny, you know that,” Tyrion said, trying to stifle further laughter.” So, you kissed her last night, good for you! That she didn’t reciprocate, I am not surprised, she had thought you were dead for the past year, she could probably barely believe you were alive, let alone up for some kissing and cuddling and fucking-“

 

“I wasn’t going to fuck her… at least not yet,” Jaime groused.

 

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the brother’s both leap out of their chairs. Turning around, both Jaime and Tyrion were mortified to see Brienne and her father standing behind them. Glancing at Tyrion, Jaime wanted to throttle him. Tyrion, though embarrassed, was still amused by the situation, _well it’s not my balls that will be chopped off by Lord Selwyn Tarth_.

 

Brienne couldn't believe what she had heard, what her father had heard, as they walked into the room. They had been polite, knocking on Tyrion’s chamber door, and even though they could hear laughing coming from inside, no-one came to answer. So they had tried the door, entered, made their way out onto the balcony, to hear Jaime say what he said. Brienne was both mortified and fuming, with underlying hint of self doubt. _Was Jaime mocking me_ , she thought as she vaguely watched Tyrion leap into the fray and try and explain the situation to Selwyn, though her was seemingly only making it worse. Selwyn was getting redder and redder in the face and looked like he wanted to drag both brother’s down to the docks and toss them in the Blackwater Bay. Whilst Tyrion talked and talked, Jaime just gazed, shamefaced, at Brienne. As Brienne, unable to handle the humiliation anymore, turned to take the stairs off the balcony, down to the courtyard, Jaime followed her, ignoring both Selwyn’s and Tyrion's calls.

 

—

 

Brienne knew Jaime had been following her, but she had the advantage of having slightly longer legs than him, meaning her stride was longer, making her quicker. At one point she tried not to laugh as she turned a corner and practically saw him trotting to try and catch her. People she knew, and absolute strangers, gazed at the pair in wonderment. This made Brienne feel slightly sick, she knew she was already a laughing stock to many people, and now they would say she was a royal fool, an utter joke, to be running from a handsome man, to be running from Jaime Lannister. _Jaime Lannister, you are the fool_ , she had remember what Tyrion had told her last night as they walked to his chamber, that they were going to try and keep knowledge of Jaime being alive a secret for now, that they needed to understand further what implications his being alive would have on the lay of the land. _And here is Jaime trailing after me like a puppy, out in public, why, why you fool!_ Abruptly Brienne took a hard left that led her down a path towards the Weirwood tree stump that, all those years ago, before Brienne had left Kings Landing the first time, Sansa had regularly prayed to the Old Gods. It was quiet in this part of the grounds, the only living beings close by were little spring birds and the occasional lizard popping its head out to see if it was warm enough to come out of hibernation yet. Once Brienne made it to the Weirwood tree stump, she turned and waited. A moment later Jaime came loping through the trees. He stopped at the sight of her.

 

“Brienne-“

 

“No, I want to say something first,” Brienne interjected. “I have never been so humiliated by what you said back there-“

 

“Hang on a second, I didn't know you or your father were standing behind us!”

 

“Oh ho no,” Brienne laughed in disabelief. “It wasn’t so much that my father and I overheard it, but you talk about me with your brother, about us-“

 

“Not in detail-“

 

“Ah!!” Brienne through her hands up in frustration, and turned away, walking to the edge of the cliff to look out over the water. _Why can't he understand_ , Brienne wondered, she thought that he had known her enough to know that she was private about this stuff. When it came to affairs of the heart, of fucking, of loving, she had been bullied, teased, ridiculed so much, that anything to do with love was hidden tight away, in her heart and in her head. Only Jaime had been the one to ever break through, batter down those walls, find the chink in her metaphorical armour and climb his way through. Just because he had gotten through didn’t mean she wanted him to share with others what he had found and experienced with her. She heard Jaime approach her.

 

“I’m sorry, I… Tyrion is my brother and he’s my only friend really - apart from you - and it’s what we do… but I assure you, detail is never discussed-“ Jaime appears in her peripheral vision.

 

Scoffing Brienne turned away, he frustrated her so much, to often, and it drove her crazy. He drove her mad on their journey south, when Lady Catelyn Stark had commanded she return Jaime to Kings Landing in exchange for Sansa and Arya. He drove her crazy when they were in Kings Landing, trying to figure out what to do with Sansa and wondering where Arya was. He drove her crazy at Riverrun, when he refused to talk politics with her, and in the dragon pit, when he sullenly looked at her and refused to engage. He drove her particularly crazy at Winterfell, firstly when he followed her around, like a sad shadow, and secondly, when he would surprise her with moments of affection, she tried not to laugh when a particular memory came to her, _it was mid morning and she was in a meeting with Sansa, and Graham Terner, the new Winterfell Master at Arms, when a knock at the door interrupted them. Brienne had opened it to be confronted by Jaime holding a small bouquet of blue winter bells. She had hastily made to close the door, her eyes wide with embarrassment. Jaime had stuck his foot in the way, however, and thrust the bouquet at her, a lopsided grin on his face. She had hissed at him, "what are you doing?” He had replied he was here to check on his Lady and make sure she was warm and happy and feeling loved. She had hissed back, "will you shut up!” She glanced back at Sansa and Terner, who were both looking at her curiously. This distraction allowed Jaime to shove on the door enough to get partially in the room. He had nodded greetings to the two other occupants, before grabbing Brienne by the shirt and raising up to kiss her. For a moment, a millisecond, Brienne forgot where she was, all she could feel were Jaime's lips on hers and his hand on her shoulder. And then she shoved him back out the door, slamming it in his grinning face. Looking down she noticed the flowers in her hand, she hadn't even noticed him placing them there. Turning back to Sansa and Terner, she blushed the blush of a thousand maids at the amused and satisfied looks on their faces…_

 

It was just like old times, it felt like Jaime had never been apart from her, that year of grief was like a bad dream, a nightmare. Yet the presence of Alys told her all to much that that year had been real, and she needed to understand, from his perspective, why he had left, why he hated himself so much, and why he had decided to come back. He had had a year within which he could've returned to her, it was this that hurt the most. Jaime’s voice pulled her from her musings, he was in the middle of explaining something, she turned to him with a frown.

 

“… you remember, right? I did tell you, Bronn arrived at Winterfell, commissioned to… well, you know, to kill Tyrion and myself, but he didn’t… obviously, but it was that evening, before Bronn, Tyrion told me I was happy, and I was… I need to you to know that… but, anyway, Tyrion then asked what you were like down there, and I called him a dog and I _told_ him it was non of his business, so you see, I don't tell details. Only I’m allowed to know what your like down there… and…” Jaime slowed to a stop at the look on Brienne’s face. “What?”

 

“It’s like you were never gone, you're so annoying!” Brienne replied, in wonderment.

 

Jaime smiled and stepped towards her, reaching out he grasped her hand. Brienne looked down at their hands and she felt like crying. She could feel his callouses and the edge of a scab from a cut at the edge of his hand, she ran her thumb over the scab. _We are like this scab, everything is okay, at the moment, there is the potential to heal, but the hurt is still there, and if we rip the scab off, then…._

 

Sighing, Brienne pulled her hand away and tried to ignore Jaime’s disappointed look. “I know I just said it is like you were never gone, but you still left Jaime, I still thought you were dead, I… I still don’t know if…”

 

Swallowing hard, Jaime asked, “if?”

 

“Are you going to stay?”

 

“Yes... at least, I mean…”

 

“This Jaime! This is what I was afraid of.”

 

“It is not what you think!”

 

“Well what do you want me to think… I am so scared that if I let you in again then next time you leave you will rip my heart out of my chest..."

 

“I won’t-“

 

“When you left Winterfell I wasn’t sad because I lost you to your sister, I know I didn't _lose_ you to her, I lost you to yourself, this hatred that you had, the loathing you felt for your past. For some reason, even the love that we had wasn’t enough.”

 

They both fell silent at Brienne’s final outburst.

 

“It wasn’t so much that it wasn’t enough,” Jaime murmured.

 

Brienne felt her heart clench, _and here it is, the truth, it was Cersei all the time, I was wrong, he never did love me, he-_

 

“Bran… King Bran, he… uh… he asked me, before the battle with the wights, how did I know there was an after. I knew, in that moment, that I was meant to die fighting for the living. I was meant to die during that battle Brienne, and I didn’t… when we… we were together, I knew I was living on borrowed time, so I tried to be as happy as I could, in that moment. When I found out that Cers- my sister was going to be destroyed for what she had done, I think, no, I knew that was the Gods, telling me my borrowed time was up… that I-“

 

“Rubbish!” Brienne interjected. “You told me once that you didn’t believe in the Gods, that you wondered why would the Gods allow so many bad things to happen to good people, why the Gods never punished you for your crimes-“

 

“Yes! That is the point, that was my punishment-“

 

“And yet you are still here!… So I say again, rubbish!” Brienne frowned, determination in the set of her mouth, her hands clenched as though ready to physically fight him on the point.

 

A breeze had picked up since they had come down to the cliffs, it gently picked up Brienne’s hair, emphasising its length, flying around her neck. She had tied half of it up with a leather cord, but a curl had escaped, and was fluttering across her brow. Jaime thought back to his dream from a few months ago… _Her hair was much longer then it had been, she had the top half tied into a bun at the back of her head and the bottom half curled tenderly around her neck and shoulders…_ In that dream Brienne had been holding a little girl, a sweet little thing, and she had called him _Papa_. Desperately wanting to kiss Brienne, and without thinking, Jaime stepped forward, sliding his right arm around her waist and pulling her towards him. Brienne gasped, and then yelped in pain, pushing Jaime back.

 

“What? What?!?” Jaime asked, watching as Brienne rubbed her back and then start laughing.

 

She waved at his hook on his right arm, “you dug that bloody thing into my back you idiot! And what were you trying to do anyway?”

 

Biting his lip, Jaime snorted, “I was trying to _hook_ and reel you in!”

 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Brienne tried not to laugh at the poorly made jest, leaning her hips against the low rock wall.

 

“WeeeeeelI, I also wanted to kiss you… can I kiss you?” Jaime wriggled his eyebrows at her. He could see the amusement and merriment in her eyes, the way her frown lines just melted away, the twisting of her lips as she tried her hardest not to smile at him.

 

“No!” She replied, “not yet!”

 

“Not yet?” Jaime smiled. Not yet was better than a not at all.

 

“Maybe, later, but Jaime, do be serious now, we need to talk,” Brienne turned towards him, clasping her hands in front of her. She looked up as the city bell rang out the hour. “And we have to hurry, Alys needs to be fed soon.”

 

“Maybe we should leave it for now… I have a feeling what we have to discuss will take weeks, if not months to unpick, argue…. or accuse each other of things,” Jaime sobered up, realising that, as much as it felt like they had never been apart, he was still a very damaged man, and what he did to his Lady could not easily be fixed by a few jests and kisses.

 

“You think I am going to accuse you of something?” Brienne’s frown was back in place, concern and worry chasing away the laughter.

 

“Maybe… or maybe I’ll accuse you of something,” Jaime quipped, before backtracking at the look of horror on her face. “I mean, I won’t, there is nothing to accuse you of my Lady Ser, you are beyond reproach, you are perfection personified, you are the truest knight with the tenderest of hearts, you are-“ 

 

“Don’t put me on a pedestal Jaime, I am not some perfect knight in shining armour come to save you or Pod or Tyrion or Lady Sansa…” Brienne snapped back. She knew she wasn’t perfect, though she tried her hardest to live up to her morals and ideals. Back in Winterfell it had been Jaime’s tendency to praise her to the highest heavens, and to snipe at, hit, and punish anyone who spoke ill of her, that had worried her the most. The fact that he failed to see her imperfections did not sit well with her. She knew his faults, and still loved him, she needed to know he felt the same.

__

“I know you’re not perfect… you’re too stubborn… and you still grunt just before you lunge...” Jaime tried to make a jest out of the moment, but it fell spectacularly flat. Brienne sighed and indicated that they should start to head back to the Keep. They fell into step beside each other.

 

“You were a fool to expose yourself as you have, chasing after me this morning… what if someone saw you who wanted to do you harm? There were many people who were happy to think you were dead…” Brienne murmured, glancing at the man she loved and feared for more than anyone else, other than Alys.

 

“Fuck them, you are more important to me, you always have been, even when I was… away.” Jaime stopped and grabbed her hand. “Brienne, I know I have _things_ to deal with, I don’t expect you to forgive me or love me or take me back, but I want to try, I want to try…”

 

Brienne squeezed his hand, “I forgave you for everything that you had done and that you ever would do the moment you told me the true story of you… killing Aerys… I believe I loved you from that moment too, and I don’t think I could ever stop loving you… as for taking you back, there is no question, I will take you back, but…”

 

Jaime had never felt so hopeful in his entire life as he did in that moment, “but?”

 

“We both have deep-seated issues that we have to deal with… I… I still can’t believe sometimes that you had wanted me, right now I still wonder how can you still want me… I’m ugly and not maidenly at all, how could any man _want_ me, especially Ser Jaime Lannister,” Brienne said, dropping her eyes with a sense of shame. Jaime opened his mouth to reply, but she held her hands up, she had more to say. “I need to learn how to believe in you, not because of anything you have done, but because of what I believe about myself… and you need to sort out… your history, you need to finally decide what to do with Cersei-“

 

“Cersei is dead!” Jaime interjected, matter-a-factly.

 

“I know, physically she is, but Jaime, she is still in you, and you have to decide, do you let her stay or do you let her go, finally.”

 

Jaime nodded as they started to walk up the pathway again. “I’ll try, I promise, I will try.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a plan people!! Finally, an end point for THIS story... I will wrap this up at the memorial... but!!!! I am planning a sequel... in fact I am planning a series... amazing stuff happens once you finish your dissertation, the muse returns with a fanfare. Enjoy

 

 

When they had arrived back at Tyrion’s apartments, Jaime had been delighted to see that the Summer’s had arrived, _all_ of the Summer’s. The children were racing around Tyrion’s apartments and Tyrion’s manservant, Manfred was trotting along behind them, catching vases that were knocked, swiping important papers out of the way, and generally scowling at the _unruliness_ of these _provincial_ children. Jaime laughed and swept Elayne into a hug, followed by a handshake with Olivar. Brienne hovered in the background watching this family greet Jaime as though he was a long lost uncle or brother. She felt self conscious, especially at how pretty Elayne was, with her nut brown curly hair, bright eyes, and petite figure. Pulling on her tunic, she felt her ungainliness, her milk heavy breasts causing the fabric across them to stretch, how her belly was soft, how she had dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. As Jaime gave a jolly hello to the children, Brienne pulled further back behind the curtains at the balcony door; though Tyrion had spied her and was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

 

Something green sparked deep in her heart. Brienne had often thought about how she had felt over the years regarding Cersei. Even when Brienne had realised (or rather when Cersei had told her) that she was in love with Jaime, she had never ever thought that he could be hers in a million years. He was Jaime Lannister, the Golden Lion of the West, who had been one of, if not _the_ best Knight in the Seven Kingdoms, the handsomest man, one of the most eligible bachelors (though not remotely interested in that title); how could she, plain, ugly, clumsy, witless, Brienne of Tarth ever attract such a man. For as long as Brienne had known Jaime she had _known_ that he was Cersei’s, heart, body, and soul. And yet the bond between them had grown immensely. Though she never imagined they could ever be lovers, she saw in Jaime a kindred spirit, a friend… perhaps her only friend (not that she didn’t consider Pod her friend, but she was his mentor as well, and almost like a mother figure to him, they were not equal the way that she was with Jaime). What he had with Cersei was beyond her, or anyone else, or so she had believed. And so she hadn’t been jealous, or envious, or covetous, she had loved him for who he was and in that love only wished him happiness, even if that happiness was with his sister. But this, seeing Jaime with the family that had saved him, looked after him, nurtured him, when she felt that it should’ve been her that saved, looked after, and nurtured him, it hurt. He looked happy to see them, relaxed, content, joyful, unlike the night before, with her, when he had been sad, angry, resigned, unsure, unsettled, desperate, forward, and petrified. Taking a step back further, she glanced over at Tyrion, his eye catching hers. He raised his eyebrows, questioning her, _what is it?_ Brienne silently shook her head, turned to the stairs, and quickly ran down them.

 

Tyrion watched, concerned, as Brienne took off. Turning back to the joyous reunion unfolding in his chambers, Tyrion smiled and gestured to Manfred, who was nervously watching an older Summer’s boy pouring himself some water from a crystal cut jug. Instructing his manservant to fetch some food and wine for the party, Tyrion informed the group that he had a meeting to go to, but that they could stay in his chambers and enjoy the food and wine that was on its way. At that point Jaime noticed that Brienne wasn’t there, he asked Tyrion, “did you see where Brienne went?”

 

“She had to feed Alys, she said she would come back later,” Tyrion patted Jaime’s arm. “She wants you to enjoy your afternoon with the Summer’s.”

 

Jaime frowned, “why didn’t she say goodbye, I wonder…”

 

Tyrion hoped his acting skills would work, and as he gestured toward his chest area, he whispered “she, uh, you know, she really had to feed Alys… she was, um… leaking.”

 

Jaime’s eyes went wide, “oh! Of course… I, I will go and see her in an hour or so.”

 

“Just enjoy your time with your friends, Brienne will be back… anyway, I have to go.” Tyrion squeezed Jaime’s arm, said goodbye to the Summer’s, and left them to it.

 

—

 

Brienne sat in the large comfy chair by the window with Alys, watching the afternoon wain on. Alys, happily suckling, occasionally stopped drinking to look up at her mother and let out a squeak. Brienne smiled down at her daughter, even though she felt like crying. She couldn’t understand why she felt this way, these people had saved Jaime, if not for them he probably would’ve died eventually, buried under those red bricks with Cersei. She should be grateful, she should be thanking them, embracing them, lavishing gifts on them… but jealousy had taken hold. A soft knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. She called out, “who is it?”

 

A voice came through the dark wood, “it is Tyrion, Ser Brienne, can I come in?”

 

Sighing, Brienne reached for the shawl on the back of the chair and covered her breast and Aly’s head. Alys grumbled at suddenly being covered, but Brienne was not having Tyrion ogle or comment on her breasts… or discuss the size of her breasts with Jaime later on. “Come in!”

 

Tyrion pushed the door open and poked his head in, relief on his features when he saw Brienne had covered herself. “I just wanted to check on you Brienne… I haven’t had a chance to speak to you since last night.”

 

“I, I’m, I’m not sure how I feel right now- oh for Gods sake Tyrion come in and sit down, I am going to get a crick in my neck if I speak to you hovering at the door.”

 

Tyrion shuffled in and hopped up on the other chair next to the window. He smiled at Alys’s headless body, and the faint sighs and squeaks coming from under the blanket. “Is she not suffocating under that blanket?”

 

“Well my Lord, if you would rather a sit here with my teats out in the open I am more than happy to take the blanket off,” Brienne snapped. Tyrion’s face dropped and his fingers drummed on the table next to him.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap… I don’t know why I did, I think, I’m tired.” Brienne laid her head back and closed her eyes momentarily.

 

Tyrion watched her carefully, it had been a rough few days for her, “how is everything going with Jaime?”

 

Brienne shrugged her shoulders.

 

“Have you managed to talk things out?”

 

Brienne glared at him, “he has been back less then a day… well, for me anyway, how are we supposed to have talked about everything?”

 

Tyrion looked sheepish, “I was just hoping that… well, that everything was okay between you both.”

 

“They are… alright, I suppose… though…” Brienne looked at Tyrion wearily, she wasn’t sure how he felt about the Summer’s, how well he knew them, if he…

 

“Tell me my Lady Ser, you know you can tell me anything,” Tyrion leant forward and patted Brienne’s knee. She twitched away, she hated being condescended too; Tyrion grimaced an apology.

 

“I thought, he wanted, he said he wanted to stay, but there is always a but… and when I saw him with those people, I just… what if he wants to stay with them? What if they are the ones that can make him better?”

 

Brienne looked astonished, and then hurt, when Tyrion let out a bark of a laugh. She didn’t see what was funny about her worries.

 

“Forgive me Brienne, but really? You think that he would go back with the Summer’s? Jaime is… disturbed, a lot, but you are his family, we are his family, not them… if anyone should take up his care now it is us… though, we should not begrudge him having friends.”

 

“I never said I didn’t want him to have friends! I want him to have his own life, just as I want mine, but…”

 

“But you are jealous, but I dare say it is not Jaime and his relationship with them that you are jealous of…”

 

Brienne frowned, she felt puzzled, she couldn’t fathom what Tyrion meant. Alys, under the blanket, unlatched from her nipple and started squirming. Careful to not expose her breast, Brienne pulled the shawl off Alys’s head and sat her up, and started to gently pat her back. Alys, now free of the shawl, saw her uncle and started laughing, waving her hands towards him. Tyrion’s face lit up and he started pulling faces at his niece. This only made Alys laugh more, facilitating, before long, a very loud burp, which shocked her into stillness. Brienne bit her lip to stop from laughing at the look on her daughter’s face. Tyrion didn’t hold back at all, chuckling as he got out of his chair and took Alys from Brienne, “may I?”

 

“Yes,” Brienne murmured. As Tyrion sat down and started babbling to Alys, Brienne rose and turned her back to them, to do the buttons up on her tunic. “What did you mean by my not being jealous of what I think I am jealous of?”

 

Tyrion looked up, “I don’t think you are jealous of Jaime’s relationship with them, I think you are jealous of them, as a family, they have what you have wanted this whole year, and here is my brother, a part of that family… so perhaps, in part, it is the relationship he has with them, but you can have that with Jaime, he wants that with you.”

 

Brienne sat down again, holding out a hand for Alys to grab onto, “how do you know he wants that with me?”

 

Tyrion looked astounded at her, “he loves you… when he accidentally saw Alys for the first time, when Dyana brought her to my chambers, he cried like I had never seen him cry before… all he ever wanted was to be a part of a warm and loving family, and we Lannister’s have never been good at being a warm, loving family. He was never going to have what the Summer’s have with Cersei… but he knows he can have that with you, if…”

 

“If?” Brienne whispered. She suspected it was the tiredness, the emotional turmoil, the longing, that was making her fearful. There always seemed to be a but or an if when it came to her, especially with men.

 

“If you wish it… that is the honest truth, you are always foremost in his mind, will his behaviour, his choices, his reputation affect you, will being associated with him destroy you and Alys, can he protect you both, should he leave because it will be better for you and for this little one…” Tyrion gazed lovingly at Alys, she blinked sleepily at him, a satisfied smile on her face. “You know, I have never known such a cheery babe before, she is all sunshine and rainbows and-“

 

“Smelly shits, loud burps, and baby vomit,” Brienne interjected carelessly, gazing out the window thinking. “Why is it that everyone thinks they know what is best for me and my child? Are we not better with a hus- a father for Alys?”

 

Brienne glanced at Tyrion to see if he had noticed her near slip, and she blushed heavily when she realised he had. He gave her a wry smile as he handed Alys to her, “this one is nearly ready for bed I think… and I am sure if you proposed marriage to my brother he would happily accept.”

 

Brienne blushed, even as she rolled her eyes.

 

—

 

Elayne was sitting nursing a cup of wine as she listened to Bronn talk about his wedding, which was in less then five days time, “the day after the fucking memorial, in the afternoon, come along if you like-“

 

“Oh we couldn’t! We don’t even know the bride, and we are not of the… appropriate class,” Elayne gasped.

 

“Ohhhh fuck that - you think I’m of the _appropriate_ class? I just worked my way-“

 

“Bribed your way,” Jaime interjected, a sly grin on his face.

 

“Yeah, alright… cunt… well you’re looking a lot happier then when I saw you last, have a good fuck with Ser Brienne last night? See, all you needed was to clear the pipes, so to speak,” Bronn sniped back at Jaime. Jaime rolled his eyes and then winked at Elayne. Elayne smiled before she glanced over the balcony railing to ensure that her children were nowhere near to hear Bronn’s filthy language. Olivar grimaced and snapped that he didn’t think this topic of discussion was appropriate in front of his wife.

 

“Well, I was just trying to be nice is all, you are nice folk, and your friends with Ser One-handed Fuck-Up here, so I think you should come to my wedding,” Bronn said as he poured himself his third cup of wine. After the food had been delivered and Manfred had left in a huff after one of the Summer’s children had asked him why he had such a big nose, Bronn had emerged out of the woodwork, like a flea honing in on its prey, and had hunkered down at the dining table, helping himself to chicken legs and slices of boiled pork, chunks of stuffing and a small helping of honeyed carrots. Despite the good feast, it soon became apparent that Bronn was in a foul mood, and was determined to be at his worst. His soon to be father-in-law had found out about his liaison with Tyrion’s maid, and he had insisted that if he ever found out about Bronn _playing around_ with any other woman, then he would chop Bronn’s balls of. Bronn had told him that that would defeat the purpose of his wedding and bedding his daughter, that if he had no balls then he couldn’t get a child on anyone, let alone his daughter. The soon to be father-in-law had taken further offence and had replied with a curt “it won’t be your balls then, it will be your head”, leaving Bronn fuming and frustrated.

 

“If this is what marriage is supposed to be like, than I don’t know if I want it!” Bronn had grumbled, bringing the conversation back to his wedding, much to Jaime’s relief.

 

“What? Having love and companionship and friendship?” Olivar replied, frowning.

 

“If I want friendship I can come and hang around either of the Lannister brothers, or Podrick Payne, he’s a laugh… I mean, I like to tease him, companionship can be had at any brothel, and love, who needs love!”

 

“We all need love, someone who cares for us and accepts us for who we are, do you not care for your intended?” Elayne asked, she felt a headache coming on. As much as she had _liked_ Bronn when he had stayed with them in their home, appreciated his help with the Christor problem, he was being particularly annoying this evening and she was almost at the end of her tether.

 

“I care for her big tits and her large dowry-“

 

“Bronn, don’t take it personally, but please leave,” Jaime snapped. He had seen the drained look on Elayne’s face and the anger brewing in Olivar, he had to stop the conversation before it got worse. Bronn dropped his fork and angrily stood up.

 

“Well, so much for friendship, here I am, needing to vent about my wedding, and you… you… Jaime Lannister, go fuck Ser Brienne, fuck her in the cunt, in the arse, in the mouth, I don’t care how, but just do it and get your humours back… fucking cunt…” Bronn flung his napkin on the table, growled at the table, and then walked out of the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

 

Jaime sighed, “sorry about that.”

 

Olivar glared at Jaime, stood, and said, “Elayne, I’m going to take the children back to the inn, the sun is starting to set, are you coming?”

 

Elayne glanced at her husband, smiled gently, and took his hand in hers, “I’ll be along in a minute, I just want a word with Jaime.” 

 

They watched as Olivar took the stairs down to the courtyard and gathered up the children, herding them towards the exit.

 

“Jaime, I can’t stay long, we, we are staying in an inn not far from here, and after the incident with Christor, I…I get nervous.”

 

Jaime nodded, “I understand, I, you should go, you could catch them before they have even left the keep.”

 

Elayne glanced longingly towards the stairs, “I think I will, but I just wanted to see how you were, you were saying earlier, before Bronn appeared, that you thought things were going well with your Lady- I am so glad that you found her again, after all of the pining and longing… don’t give me that look, you were pining for her.”

 

“I think… I don’t know, I want her, I love her, I don’t think I could ever stop loving her, but…”

 

“Your sister is dead Jaime.”

 

“Is she?” Jaime whispered. Even just knowing that Elayne could leave any minute made a cold fear creep up his spine. The moment Brienne had entered the room, the night before, Cersei’s voice had fled, but all day, at the back of his mind, he had had doubt, doubt that she would stay away, and fear of what would happen if she came back.

 

Elayne stood, but leant down and kissed his cheek, “Jaime, she is, I saw her body, I _checked_ her body to confirm that she was dead. You have nothing to fear anymore… please promise me that you will try and move forward with Lady Brienne, that you will try, for your family.”

 

Jaime nodded, but even Elayne’s words weren’t soothing.

 

“I’m going to go, but please, I would love to meet Lady Brienne tomorrow… and your little daughter… I can’t believe you are a father!”

 

“I, I will introduce you, I will see you tomorrow.” Jaime squeezed his friend’s hand in gratitude. Elayne, and even Olivar, were his beacons of hope, if he had their support, alongside Brienne’s and Tyrion’s, maybe he could get passed his past.

 

—

 

It was quiet after Elayne had left, and Jaime sat nursing the last of his wine, he wondered where Tyrion was. He wondered what Brienne was doing and why she hadn’t come back yet. Perhaps he should go to her, his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing her, _yes, yes, I will go to her chambers, maybe Alys is still awake and I can say goodnight to her, maybe Brienne will let me kiss her…_ He gulped down the last mouthful of wine and stood, reaching for his cloak. Securing it around his shoulders, he stepped to the door and rested his hand on the handle, he felt prickles of fear run up his back. He could feel her, behind him, in the blackness of the chamber, lurking, scheming, sharpening her claws. It was this place, the Red Keep, Kings Landing, it was driving him insane, he didn’t want to be there anymore. _Why not brother? Why would you leave me again? There is a way you can join me forever you know… that is a nice drop from the balcony, and the courtyard is hard stone, it would be over in a second_.

 

"Leave me alone," Jaime had whispered, resting his forehead on the door. Cersei replied _What? Like you left me alone? Alone to face the coming doom of the dragon bitch, alone with that lecherous Greyjoy... I let him put his hands on me, I let him put his cock in me... oh how I wished it was your cock Jaime, my one and only, my beloved. I can't leave you alone brother, I will never leave you_ _alone_. Jaime was shocked at the flare of jealousy that sparked in his heart at her words, he remembered when Greyjoy had teased him about Cersei, implying over and over that he would be the Queen's consort, and not Jaime. And Cersei had never denied it. Even when they had fucked for the last time, after Greyjoy had brought Ellaria Sand and her daughter to Cersei, Cersei had rebuffed his attempts to raise the issue of Greyjoy. Even as he had lain in the dawn light, gazing at his beautiful sister, there had been doubt about everything. And when Cersei had threatened to have the Mountain kill him, when he left for the North, that was when he had realised he didn't love Cersei anymore, not as a lover anyway. The green spark of jealousy flattened, only to be replaced by fear. Cersei's voice emerged from the blackness again, _yes Jaime, fear me, fear me and my wrath; find me brother, come to me, we are not complete without each other, remember how it felt, to be inside me; come to the balcony, let our souls come together again..._   

 

“NO!” Jaime yelled into the ether. He spun around, expecting to see his sister standing there, perhaps with her hair long again, and that alluring green dress that had been his favourite, her arms reaching for him. But there was no-one there, only the sunset, framed by the balcony door. Turning back, he pulled the door open violently, he strode out into the corridor, and walked purposefully to Brienne’s chambers. He didn’t look back, he only looked forward, it was the only option he had. What Jaime failed to notice, however, as he strode down the corridor, was the dark shadow that followed him…

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took awhile, a few changes, especially at the end... I was wavering between our lovable lion being an absolute teary, angsty mess, or finally seeing what he had in front of him and getting angry at that voice in his head... and then my muse created this... ouch, this one hurts a bit. Enjoy... we are nearly to the end.

 

 

Brienne had left Alys with Myrtle, to be bathed and made ready for bed. She had gone to speak to her father about Jaime and what he had heard earlier that day when they had walked into Tyrion’s chambers. Selwyn had been amused as she had tried to stutter her way through an explanation. Eventually he put her out of her misery and told her that, he understood there was a relationship between herself and Jaime Lannister, as evidenced by his granddaughter, and that his only concern now was whether Jaime would do the right thing and step into the role of husband and father. Brienne had been surprised at her father’s thoughts, she hadn’t known what to expect, but certainly not an immediate push for a betrothal. Not sure how she felt about everything that had happened in the past day, Brienne couldn’t believe it had only been the night before, when Tyrion had come to them, and declared Jaime alive. Pulling her into his arms, Selwyn had told her that he would stand beside her, no matter her choice, and Brienne had appreciated the sentiment. Before leaving she did ask her father to not come into her room without permission again. At the request he had raised his eyebrows suspiciously, which had caused her to blush, but she had felt Jaime’s uncomfortableness around her father, and she didn’t want to give Jaime anymore reason to run.

 

Now in the corridor, walking slowly back to her room, Brienne pondered the entire day; no, she pondered her entire life. When she was little, her Septa had become her main carer, after her mother had died. Her father had been so deep in his grief that, for a number of years, he had barely remember that he had a little girl, and at that point a little boy. Brienne had clung to her big brother, Galladon, shying away from the sadness of her father, and the gruffness of her Septa. And then Galladon had died and Brienne had been left alone, with no one else to confide in and a father who loved her, but buried his grief in his bed with his _ladies_. Just before her tenth birthday her father had sent for her cousins, Dyana and Alysanne to come and stay with her, but neither of her cousins were like her. Dyana had lovely blonde curls, the same bright blue eyes as Brienne, a rosebud mouth, and was so petite as to almost disappear into thin air when in profile. Alysanne also had blonde hair, but it was lovely, long, thick, and straight, making it easy to braid and plait into intricate designs on her head; her eyes were a lovely warm brown, and she tanned easily in the sun, giving her a sun kissed look. Whilst Dyana was a kind, sweet soul, who latched onto Brienne like a limpet, Alysanne, a few years older than Brienne, had been haughty, and distracted by the young squires, ignoring her younger cousins, and sneering at Brienne’s plain looks. Brienne remembered overhearing once, Alysanne asking her Septa why Brienne was so ugly when all the other girls in the family were beautiful, it had broken Brienne’s ten year old heart. That was the crux of all of Brienne’s difficulties in life, or so she thought, her plain looks, _plain ugly_ , she thought to herself. It made her the bane of everyones life, of her father’s life, her septa’s, all the boys and men she was supposed to marry, of Tarth, of Renly, of Lady Catelyn, of Sansa, _of Jaime_. Brienne bit her lip as she approached her door, she could feel tears prickle at the back of her eyes. _Poor Alys, to have a mother such as me_ , Brienne leant on the handle and pushed the door open.

 

“Brienne!”

 

Jumping at her name, Brienne turned to see Jaime rushing down the corridor towards her, his face pale, his lovely green eyes wide. “What is it? Jaime?”

 

He stopped just short of her, his eyes drinking her in, and then he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. He squeezed her tight, as though he was clinging on for dear life. She rubbed her hands briefly on his back, before pulling back and cupping his face, “Jaime, tell me what is wrong?”

 

“She… she…” Jaime stuttered, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, unsure how to explain to Brienne that Cersei was here, was still with him, still asking him to give her everything, including his life. Herthumbs stroking his face, Brienne peered at him, confused. A noise, a clang, like something had fallen, made them both glance down the lamplit corridor, but there was nothing there.

 

“Come into my chambers, tell me what is wrong,” Brienne murmured, taking his hand and leading him inside. Closing the door, Brienne hesitated before she slid the lock firmly in place, her gut told her something was wrong, something was coming, and over the years she had learnt to trust her instincts. She suddenly had an urge to get Alys.

 

Stepping to the other chamber’s door, she said, “I’m just going to get Alys, I need to give her her evening feed.”

 

Jaime, sitting on one of the chairs at the small table, nodded and watched her disappear for a moment. When she came back in she was clutching Alys to her chest, a white shawl wrapped around the babe. As Brienne sat down in a chair next to Jaime, Alys turned her head and gazed wide eyed at Jaime, Jaime smiled at his daughter and reached out to run his finger down her cheek. Alys turned her head to try and capture his finger in her mouth, and when she did she sucked, and when no milk came from said finger, she scrunched her face and started to cry. Brienne pulled her away, shushing her, reaching up to untie and pull down her tunic. Jaime watched in amazement as Brienne’s breast appeared and Alys latched onto her nipple, sighing in relief. He had seen Cersei breastfeeding all of their babes, when she had allowed him to stay in the birthing room immediately after their births, and a couple of times when Robert wasn’t around and she deemed it safe for Jaime to be with her. But he had still felt like an outsider, someone who was merely the seed provider; beyond the _getting the child_ into Cersei, he was nothing more important than a distant Uncle. Tentatively he reached up and grazed his fingertips through Alys’ hair, Alys glanced at him, still drinking in her mother’s milk, she reached a little hand out towards his face.

 

“Is she, is she alway this…” Jaime looked up at Brienne, smiling in wonder. All of his worries, his fears were forgotten, in the safety of this chamber he had all that mattered to him.

 

“Happy? Hungry? Content? Friendly?” Brienne queried with one eyebrow raised.

 

Jaime chuckled, “all?”

 

Brienne smiled as her eyes dropped to her daughter, “yes, from the moment she slipped out of me, she was… is wonderful.”

 

“She is beautiful, so beautiful,” Jaime whispered, leaning in even closer. He could see milk beading on Alys’ lips and chin, a line of milk dripped slowly down the white skin of Brienne’s breast. “You are beautiful Brienne.”

 

Brienne felt her face flush at the compliment. On a whim she pressed her lips to the back of his head and breathed him in. This, this was what she had dreamt of, longed for, wanted more than anything else, Jaime with her and Alys. She knew people said she deserved better, or even that she got what she deserved, fucking a Lannister, but she didn’t care what other people thought. Loving Jaime meant that she had to accept all of him, his past, his sins, his annoying ability to tease her into countless blushes. She smiled, pressing one last kiss to his head, before leaning back. Jaime looked up at her, tears streaming down his face, with her free hand she gently wiped his tears away.

 

“Oh Jaime.”

 

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah”

 

Brienne tried not to laugh at Alys’ interruption, “did I tell you she likes to sing!”

 

Jaime laughed through his tears, “no, no you didn’t.”

 

Alys sneezed and then started to grumble again, so Brienne switched her over to her other breast, this time freeing up her right arm to wrap around Jaime’s shoulders and draw him to her side.

 

“Can you tell me what is the matter? I want to help you… I want…”

 

Jaime looked up into Brienne’s beautiful blue eyes and felt like he had found safe harbour, _I can tell her and she won’t judge me or laugh at me or think I am mad_. “I… I hear her.”

 

He didn’t even have to say who he meant, Brienne knew who the _her_ was. “Often?”

 

Jaime looked down and bit his lip, “I didn’t, I mean, I had dreams, whilst I was living with Elayne and Olivar, she was in them, but always dying or dead, and you, I dreamt of you so much, and even of Alys… though I didn’t know it at the time-“

 

Brienne nodded, listening carefully, without judgement, just as Jaime knew she would.

 

“-but, her voice, I heard it at the beginning, when I was still healing, she would tell me I was a failure, that I had failed in dying with her, and that I had to fix it-“

 

“The scars on your arm?” Brienne asked, frowning in concern.

 

Jaime nodded, “and then she went away, I, I got better, I found work, and Elayne really helped me sort through things…”

 

Jaime smiled as he reached up to grasp Brienne’s hand at his shoulder, “Elayne kept on telling me I had to come back to you-“

 

“You spoke of me to her?”

 

“Yes!” Jaime smiled, “I told her about, some of my dreams, about you… she is eager to meet you tomorrow, and Alys.”

 

Brienne smiled back, though she thought herself uncharitable, the way she had felt earlier about the Summer’s family, they had been good to Jaime and had tried to help him get back to her. She felt nothing but gratitude towards them now.

 

Leaning back a little on his haunches, Jaime turned pale again and looked ashamed, “since coming back to the Red Keep, she has come back, she was there last night, telling me to run… she even told me to take Alys to Pentos and try and pass her off as…”

 

Brienne hugged Alys a little closer to her, fear crawling up her throat, she knew what Jaime was trying to say, and it frightened her. Alys could sense her mother’s fear and squawked a little in worry. Patting her back, Brienne tried to settle her again, “is there more Jaime?”

 

Nodding Jaime leant closer again, “tonight, after, after everyone had left, I felt her, in the darkness, she, she told me to take my life again… that is when I came here, directly… because, I want to live Brienne, I want to live!”

 

His face crumbled so quickly that Brienne had hardly any time to quickly stand, lay Alys on her bed, and turn back to him to gather him in her arms. He sobbed into her neck, just as he had the night before, and again, she couldn’t fathom how she could fix this, fix him, fix them. It terrified her that this voice in his head was telling him to take Alys away, and do Gods know what with her. Yet, he just said that he wanted to live, he came to her for help, and her love and loyalty to him made her want to try. She shushed him, rocking him in her arms like she would rock Alys to calm her, eventually he stilled. Her tunic was still undone and his cheek was now resting against her breast and all she could feel was his hot breath tickle her skin.

 

“Come to Tarth Jaime, we will get you away from here, we can leave in the morning if you like,” Brienne blurted out, it was the first thing that came into her head, to get him away from this Gods forsaken place. She had never liked Kings Landing, she hated it for the smells and sounds, the brothels and Lords and Ladies who sneered and laughed at her. She especially hated it for what it had done to Jaime.

 

Jaime, still resting on her breast, relishing the sound of her heartbeat, murmured, “yes, can we?”

 

“Yes… I never wanted to come to this memorial anyway, it, it would’ve been the first anniversary of your death… and whilst I am glad I came, purely because now I know you are not dead, I have no inclination to stay.” Brienne ran her fingers through his hair and shut her eyes.

 

Jaime sighed in relief, his eyes wandering over the curve of the breast he wasn’t resting on, he reached up with his left hand and traced its outline. Starting at her neck, grazing fingertips over the top of the breast, down over the nipple, which hardened quickly, and down underneath the fullness of it. _Her body has changed so much, but she is still strong and beautiful, she will protect me, and I will protect her, no matter what_.

 

“Jaime,” Brienne breathed out, the trail of goosebumps he left making her shiver.

 

Cersei, death, hate, despair, all fled his mind as he leant forward and wrapped his lips around the puckered nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Brienne felt a flood of wetness between her legs, and her want for him exploded. Jaime released her nipple with a pop and proceeded to kiss his way up her chest and neck, turning so that he could wrap both his arms around her. Brienne sighed, bending her head to brush his lips with her own. That was all the invitation Jaime needed, he pressed them together, sliding his tongue between her lips, doing everything to show her his love for her. Moaning, Brienne undid the rest of her tunic and shrugged it off her shoulders, before tugging on the ties of Jaime’s shirt. It wasn’t long before they were both topless, and Brienne carefully undid the ties for his hook, commenting she didn’t want to risk injury during their love making. Jaime had laughed at her comment as she lay the hook on the table. He then laid her on the bearskin rug next to the bed, covering her with his body. The warmth of his skin on her’s made Brienne feel mad with desire, she had missed this, being with him, being as close as you could to the person you love most. Sliding her arms down his back as he licked up her neck, she eased her hands under his breeches, gripping his arse tightly. Jaime almost shot out of his skin, pressing hard into her, and her desperation for him increased when she felt his arousal. Fumbling with the ties on her breeches, Jaime whispered in her ear, “I need you now!” And Brienne acquiesced, undoing the knots on both their breeches, and shoving his down as he dove his hand into her’s and slid a finger into her folds. This time Brienne nearly shot out of her skin, it had been so long since anyone, other than herself, had touched her cunt, _and Jaime is the only man allowed there, only him_. In the fog of lust and want, Brienne heard what sounded like a door shutting hard, and then the soft mewling sound of a baby, _a baby!_

 

Jaime had just slid his finger inside her and as much as it felt like heaven, Brienne knew she couldn’t do this in front of Alys, it didn’t feel right. Shoving Jaime away from her, Brienne sat up and reached for her tunic. Jaime, panting hard, his breeches half off and his cock standing to attention, asked her what the matter was. She shot him an exasperated look, “the baby, Alys, she’s on the bed!”

 

Scrambling to her feet, Brienne scooped up Alys, rocking her, even as Alys cooed at her mother. Jaime stood and pulled his breeches up, carefully over his still hard cock, tugged his shirt back on, but left it undone.

 

“Is she alright?” Jaime asked, appearing at Brienne’s side. Brienne nodded, frowning slightly. Jaime cocked his head to the side, “what’s wrong?”

 

“I… did you hear a door shut, when…”

 

“When?”

 

Brienne rolled her eyes and nodded towards the rug, “when you had your hand down my breeches!”

 

“Oh,” Jaime wryly smiled at her. “Er, no, but… well, I was hardly thinking about doors opening or closing, or-“

 

“Babies wide awake witnessing their parents… amorous behaviour.”

 

“Amorous behaviour? Is that what we were doing?” Jaime raised an eyebrow.

 

“Piss off Jaime,” Brienne shot him a smile, which dropped suddenly. “Oh by the Gods, what if it was my father? Come to check on Alys, what if he saw us? Heard us?”

 

Jaime guided Brienne to sit on the bed, “it wasn’t your father, if it was I would be being dragged out of this room right now, by my cock, with your father ready to chop it off!”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic… Oh by the Gods, what if it was Myrtle? I won’t be able to look her in the face ever again, how can I ask her to look after Alys anymore… or what if it was my cousin, Dyana, or your brother?” Brienne’s face was turning a horrible shade of red, and Jaime knew he had to calm her down.

 

“Who’s being dramatic?!? If it was Myrtle, fuck her, she’s a midwife, she knows how babies are made, so don’t worry about it… I don’t know much about your cousin, if she's a virgin it might have been a lesson-“

 

“Jaime,” Brienne admonished. Alys gave a sleepy yawn, blinking her big eyes at her mother and father. Brienne gently rocked her.

 

Jaime continued, “and if it was Tyrion he would’ve clapped and cheered us on-“

 

“JAIME!” Brienne snapped, horrified.

 

Jaime laughed at her, leaning down to kiss Alys’ forehead, “he would’ve been happy for us, and he probably would’ve taken Alys here and tucked her into her bed for us… speaking of, why don’t you put her to bed, she is asleep… and, well, we can…”

Jaime looked at the bed and then back at Brienne, he hadn’t thought it was possible, but she turned an even deeper shade of red. She smiled shyly though, nodded, stood, and made her way into the neighbouring chamber to put Alys down. As she shut the door behind her, Jaime stood and quickly shucked himself out of his shirt and breeches again. His cock had softened slightly, but he knew it wouldn’t take long to get hard again. He almost couldn't believe this was happening, he would never have dreamed that things could've moved so quickly between them, especially after everything that had happened. He pulled the blankets back on the bed, and poured two cups of wine, placing them on the bedside table. He felt nervous, it felt almost like their first time again. It felt right, here he felt safe, with Brienne, with Alys. The inherent fear and anxiety he had carried for years was lighter, and he felt like he could purge Cersei from his soul, and Brienne would be his ally in this purge. He was just about to toss another log on the fire when a tremendous yell came from the Alys’ room. Dropping the log, he ran to the door, slamming it open, not caring that he was naked. Only a single candle and the fireplace lit the room. Alys was in her little cot, sound asleep still, but it was Brienne that made Jaime’s heart leap into his throat. She was crumpled in front of the cot, pressing her hand to her side, and it was the sight of blood, spreading like dye on her shirt, that made his blood run cold.

 

Dropping to his knees in front of her, he hovered, “what happened? Brienne!”

 

Brienne looked up at him, grimacing in pain, “she... she stabbed me, get help, please…”

 

Jaime leapt to his feet and slammed open the door into the corridor, he yelled as loud as he could, “help, HELP!!! Ser Brienne, SER BRIENNE HAS BEEN ATTACKED!”

 

The sounds of doors opening and feet running made him scuttle back into the room and slide to a stop beside Brienne. He carefully helped Brienne lay down, pressing his hand over hers to stem the blood. It was Selwyn and Myrtle who arrived first. Myrtle took one look at the situation and bolted back to her room to fetch her bag of medical supplies. Making a snap judgement about what he saw in front of him, Selwyn lunged at Jaime and dragged him off Brienne, “what have you done?!?”

 

Jaime stood stunned, watching as Selwyn dropped to his knees and gathered his daughter into his arms. Brienne cried in pain, her fingers shaking, and her pale skin had taken on a greyish tinge. Jaime knew what that meant, she was going into shock. He ran into her chamber and grabbed one of the blankets from the bed, ran back, and tried to cover her with it. Selwyn glared at him, looking him up and down, before snatching the blanket from Jaime, and laying it over Brienne. At that moment Myrtle came back in, with a sleepy looking Sam Tarly, who woke quickly enough at the sight of Brienne laying in a pool of blood, and at the sight of a naked, and very much alive, Jaime Lannister.

 

As Myrtle and Sam started working over Brienne, Jaime stepped back further and further. He felt like he was in one of his nightmares, he was expecting Cersei to appear at any moment, laughing and joyous at the circumstance he now found himself in. Every groan from Brienne was like a stab wound to his own heart, _who has done this, I will kill them, is it because of me, did they do this to her because I came back, I shouldn’t have come back_. A strong arm suddenly appeared around his neck and he felt himself dragged back into Brienne’s room and unceremoniously shoved onto the floor. A pair of breeches and a shirt were thrown at him and a deep voice told him to dress. It was then he realised he was still naked, though his cock was now as limp as a rag. His hand shaking, he pulled on the breeches and shirt, standing up to face Selwyn who was pacing back and forth in front of him.

 

“Why?” Selwyn stopped in front of him. “Did she not accept your advances? Did she refuse to take you to her bed?”

 

Jaime frowned, only just comprehending what Selwyn was suggesting, “I, I didn’t do that to her, I love her!”

 

“You were hovering over her, you…” Selwyn’s face was red with anger, his whole body shaking.

 

“I called for help, if I had… done that to her, why would’ve I called for help?”

 

“I don’t know! To cover your tracks!” Selwyn rounded on him, grabbing Jaime by the shirt and hauling him off the ground. Jaime knew this man, Brienne’s father, could kill him in an instant if he wanted to, a few months ago he would’ve welcomed such a death, but earlier he had realised he wanted to live, _I have to fight for my life, for Brienne’s._ Reaching up he clawed at Selwyn’s hands, but nothing he did could ease the giant man’s iron grip.

 

“I didn’t do it, I love her, I love her, she is my world, and she’s dying.” Jaime gasped desperately, his eyes shining. Here he was, being lynched by Selwyn fucking Tarth, when all he wanted was to be back in the other chamber making sure that Sam and Myrtle were saving her.

 

At Jaime’s plea, Selwyn softened, lowering the man back to the ground, “look, I don’t know you, not really, other than hearsay and rumour… but Bri-Brienne stood for you, even in her grief, but I don’t trust you, I can’t… I can’t.”

 

Both men stood facing each other, resigned to a fate they both assumed was coming, death and grief. Jaime sagged, almost collapsing onto the ground, but Selwyn grabbed him by the arm and directed him to a chair. Silence filled the room, other than the desperate murmurings coming from the next room. Jaime had laid his head on the table, as Selwyn was tending the fire, when Tyrion came bursting through the door.

 

“What happened? Ser Farlon came and informed us that Ser Brienne was injured?”

 

Jaime looked blankly at Tyrion. Selwyn glanced between the brother’s before replying, “he, your brother my Lord, he yelled for help, I came immediately and found my… my…”

 

Selwyn couldn’t continue, he turned his head back to the fire to hide his distress. Tyrion approached Jaime, glancing around the room, noticing the two cups of wine on the bedside table, the blankets thrown back, and surmised what had been going to happen in that room, “brother?”

 

“I shouldn’t have come back,” Jaime murmured. All three of them startled when Brienne’s shriek of pain came through the door. Whereas Selwyn stepped towards the door, Jaime shrank into himself, overwhelming fear hanging over him like a dark shroud; Tyrion gazed worryingly at his brother.

 

“What do you mean Jaime? What happened?” Tyrion grasped his brother’s hand and tried to focus his attention.

 

Jaime glanced at the bed, at Selwyn, and then the door, “I, we, we were spending the evening together, we had Alys in here- Alys?”

 

Jaime shot to his feet, she had been asleep in her cot when he had first entered the other room, he remembered that, but after he saw Brienne, he had forgotten Alys. Shame flooded his heart, joining the fear and the grief he felt already, the mood was just like the night he had left Winterfell, grim; his eyes flickered to the corner of the room, _she_ was here, he knew it. He shouldn’t have come back to the Red Keep, to Kings Landing, he had been safe with the Summer’s, freer there than he had been anywhere. If only he had stayed in Duskendale, at his new home, Brienne would be safe, Alys would be safe, Tyrion would be safe. Cersei’s cackling laughter filled his head, _would they my sweetling? If people want you dead Jaime, than I can imagine they would want your… ugly lover dead as well, and your ugly bastard daughter._ Jaime leapt to his feet and scuttled to the main door, “no, no, no.”

 

Tyrion watched in horror as his brother seemed to cower and clutch onto the door handle for dear life. Another scream came from the chamber next door, just as the candle on the table gutted out, a log on the fire popped, and Selwyn slammed the connecting door between the chambers open. His legs collapsing under him, Jaime sat on the floor sobbing, “why did she do it? Why won’t she let me go? I just want it all to stop.”

 

Tyrion rushed to Jaime, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders, “who Jaime? Who did this?”

 

Absolute horror etched Jaime’s face, “Cersei, Cersei did it.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, I think this is my biggest chapter thus far... and ahhhhh, I loved your responses, especially having you all wonder, is Cersei still alive, or... well, this chapter you will find out! Also, Mal and Rory, I was waiting for someone to comment on the locked door... though I am thinking I might go back and edit some of the previous chapters as doors and locks and chambers might not be quite clear enough in the story (let's call it a bug bear of mine AND in my eagerness to publish not tightening up logistics enough), but this chapter will answer that question for you.

 

 

“What? How? Jaime, Cersei is dead, do you hear me?” Tyrion shook his brother’s shoulders, glancing back in the room as Selwyn carried Brienne through the door, laying her gently on her bed. Sam scuttled in, with only a cursory glance at the brothers. Myrtle hovered at the door between the chambers, cradling a now wide awake and screaming Alys. Jaime looked at Alys, feeling a flicker of tenderness in his breast, before anger overtook any other feelings.

 

“I’m going to kill her,” Jaime stood, turning to see Sam tending to a now unconscious Brienne. Selwyn was sitting on the bed beside her, holding her hand, and stroking her forehead. Dyana pushed into the room past Myrtle, clutching a pile of blankets, though at the sight of Jaime, she screeched to a halt, her eyes wide and mouth open.

 

“Brienne? You can’t kill Brienne!” Tyrion gasped at the same time as Selwyn bellowed for Dyana to get her eyes back in her head and bring the blankets.

 

With a determined look in his eye, Jaime looked back down at Tyrion, “not Brienne, you fool, Cersei, I’m going to kill Cersei.”

 

Yanking the door open, Jaime strode down the corridor, Tyrion trotting behind him in concern. With Jaime’s long legs and determined stride, however, Tyrion couldn’t keep up, and lost him within minutes. As Jaime turned a corner he glanced back and was glad to see Tyrion had disappeared. He knew he was going mad, he knew Cersei was dead, but then he remembered Brienne’s screams of pain, the blood oozing from her stab wound, her grey face and white lips, and it was like the ghosts from his past came screaming into his head. _Why didn’t you become the man you were meant to be? Why aren't you more like me Jaime? You are my only true son and you disappoint me,_ Tywin loomed large, as always, unsatisfied with his “favourite” child. _After you became a Kingsguard you never wrote again, I know you had other things to focus on that were important, but we were friends Jaime, since we were seven years old_ , Ser Addam Marbrand flickered past, a true friend who Jaime had shunned on Cersei’s urging. _You have your mother’s heart Jaime, but you lost it somewhere along the way, oh Jaime, your mother would be so ashamed of what you have done_ , his Aunt Genna, who had tried to be a mother to the motherless Lannister children, had guessed at some of his and Cersei's wrongdoings. _Your only job was to protect the King Ser Jaime, and yet you became his worst enemy, did you kill him on your father’s orders, or did you come up with the idea yourself?_ Ned Stark and his immediate assessment of Jaime standing over King Aerys’ body had done more damage to Jaime’s psyche than anyone could have ever predicted. _Kingslayer, if you have any honour left you will return my daughters to me… if you had children you would understand, a parent would do anything to keep their child safe, even let their worst enemy go,_ Catelyn Stark had loathed him without ever really knowing him, and yet he had fulfilled his promise to her, with both her daughters alive and safe. _You’re nothing but a rich little cunt who thinks his money will protect ‘im from the likes of me, but nothing can protect you from the likes of me_ , Locke had shown his deep distain for the rich Houses of the Seven Kingdoms by slagging off to Jaime, by taking Jaime’s hand. _Why should I keep you in the Kingsguard Uncle Jaime? You’re down a hand, you can’t protect me anymore, your a cripple, nothing but an old crippled Knight. You know what I think should happen to old crippled knights?_ Joffrey was cold and callous and from his seed, Jaime should’ve taken Joffrey as a sign that what he and Cersei were doing together was wrong. And yet Jaime had never been able to tear himself away from Cersei and her cunt, though he couldn’t blame Cersei entirely, he had had opportunities to tear himself away and he had always chosen to go back. _That’s right brother, it was always your choice, just as you chose to love me… you are good Jaime, you just made a lot of bad choices_ , Tyrion’s voice was so clear in Jaime’s head that he stopped mid stride and turned to see if Tyrion had found him. But all he saw was the long dark corridor. _Jaime… Jaime, do you really love me?_ His heart clenched at the clarity of Brienne’s voice in his head. He remembered when she had asked him that exact question, it had been during their third night together. They had just had the most passionate and intense fuck, he had taken her against the bedroom door, unable to hold himself back the moment they had stepped into the room. Afterwards they had laid down in front of the fire, Jaime grabbing furs of the bed and wrapping them up in them together. She had been stroking his beard tentatively and had seemed uncertain about things, about them. He had urged her to tell him what was the matter and it had all come out. Some of the Northern men had been talking rubbish, saying that Jaime was only fucking Brienne because he must have been getting _cock rot_ from not having fucked his sister for months. He had felt so ashamed in that moment, and angry, and like a lion, wanting to rip those men’s tongues out for saying such lies. He had assured her every single day after that that he loved her. _But you will always love me the most, won’t you Jaime, my brother, my lover, the father of my children, the other half of my soul_ , Cersei, ever alluring and enticing Cersei, who he had adored, admired, and passionately loved, for most of his life. _And it was all an allusion_ , Jaime thought as he started loping down the corridor again, _and I have to stop her, I have to stop this madness_. He knew exactly where he had to go.

 

—

 

Tyrion raced through corridors, up and down stairs, across courtyards, looking for his brother, but to no avail. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, he looked up as Bronn came lumbering around the corner, his arm around one of the kitchen wenches, whispering in her ear. She was giggling, but stopped suddenly upon spotting Tyrion. Bronn sighed as he took in the worried, haggard face of his friend. Grabbing the girl, he shoved his tongue down her throat and squeezed her buttocks hard, before whispering loudly, “we’ll have to pick this up later Jenny, meet me in the stables in a few hours.”

 

Jenny groaned with frustration at having been put off by the new Lord of Highgarden, she had been hoping for some fun that night, and if it meant a bastard would be born, all the better. Her friend, Lolly, had had a child got on her by a minor Lord, and she now had a small pension and cottage to live in; what would the Lord of Highgarden do for her if he got her with child. Reaching out with her hands, she squeezed Bronn’s cock through his trousers, licked her lips, and winked, before she glanced with irritation at Tyrion, and flounced off in a huff. Bronn tried not to laugh at the girl’s antics, he knew what she was up to, and he didn’t give a shit. He already surmised he had a few bastards out there, and he didn’t intend to ever do anything for them, it was the mother’s problem as far as he was concerned. If Jenny wanted a child she could have one, but he would have nothing to do with it, nothing at all. As long as he got his fun, in defiance of his soon to be father-in-law, he would fuck any girl who was willing. Turning to Tyrion, Bronn rolled his eyes, he could guess what the problem was, “so what’s your brother done now?” 

 

“He, he’s gone mad, I think… Brienne has been attacked,” Tyrion puffed, anxiously looking up and down the corridor.

 

Bronn’s eyebrows shot up, “the fucker has attacked Ser Brienne - he’s more messed up than I thought he was!”

 

“No, no,” Tyrion shook his head, holding his hand up to stop Bronn speaking. “Brienne was attacked, not by Jaime, but… Jaime seems to think it was Cersei-“

 

“She’s dead!”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “I know that, you know that, I think Jaime knows it, but… I don’t know, he, he said it was her, he-“

 

“What if she is alive?”

 

Tyrion glared at Bronn, “she is not alive, we buried her.”

 

“You thought you had buried your brother, remember, what if it wasn’t her, what if the bitch is still alive…”

 

Tyrion gulped, looking around even more nervously now, _what if Bronn is right, what if Jaime isn’t going mad, and he really has seen Cersei, heard Cersei_ , “well, firstly, we need to try and find my brother, I worry about what he might do… and if, by some chance you are correct, and we didn’t actually bury my sister, then… we need to find her as well.”

 

“I’m not leaving you to search alone, if your sister is, indeed, alive, you’re probably a dead man, I’ll come with you - where have you looked so far?”

 

“Um, I, I’ve looked in my chambers, in the courtyard, I’ve been to the White Tower, I thought if Jaime went anywhere he might go there, I… I even went to Cersei’s old chambers, on the off chance he thought that she would be there…”

 

Bronn nodded his head, “good start, have you checked the crypts? And what about the throne room?”

 

—

 

Jaime woke with a start, his head was aching, and he reached up and rubbed at a lump that was appearing at the back of his skull. Everything was blurry as he looked around, he could just make out the orange flames of the sconces on the walls, the stairs that led up to the new carved wooden throne, the banner of Ravens hanging behind it. Groaning, he tried to ease himself up, _what am I doing here, what happened._ Leaning on his left hand, he shook his head, trying to clear the fuzziness, but it only made it hurt worse. Dizzy and disoriented, Jaime folded on himself, resting his forehead on his left arm. It was then that he felt a hand gently rubbing his back, and a voice murmuring something to him. He tried to glance up, but it was too much, “Brienne?”

 

The hand stopped rubbing, and drew into a fist, grasping his shirt tightly. A low voice whispered venomously, “I am not that ugly bitch, how could you choose her over me?”

 

Jaime knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it, the only thing he did know was that it wasn’t Cersei’s soft, seductive whisper. “Who, who are you?”

 

He felt someone step over his legs, skirts brushing against him, the person then crouched in front of him, grasping his chin and forcing him to look up. He squinted, though his vision was still to fuzzy to make out anything other than a feminine outline. The voice hissed at him again, “Jacob? Don’t you recognise me?”

 

It was then that Jaime’s vision came into focus, and in front of him emerged Joly. She looked the same as always, a too tight dress, her breasts spilling out over the top of the bodice, a long skirt, _undoubtably without small clothes underneath_ , boots, only this time she had a black hooded cape around her, _to hide in the shadows of the Keep_. Her gapped toothed smile disturbed him, the look in her eyes made him wary, and the knife in her hand made his blood run cold. There was drying blood on the knife, Jaime knew who’s blood it was. All was silent, except for Joly’s nervous puffing, and the snap of the flames on the sconces.

 

“What have you done Joly?” Jaime whispered, his eyes darting to the doors of the throne room. He noticed that they were barred, Joly must have locked them, though he was certain she didn’t know about the side door that was in the far corner of the room.

 

“I found you Jacob, I missed you, I know that father sent you away, but to what? That ugly bitch isn’t good enough for you, she’s not pretty, like me,” Joly flicked her hair back, tugged her bodice lower, and leant towards him. “What does she have that I don’t have a thousand times better? I saw you sucking her tit, mine are bigger, you can suck mine anytime you like!” __

 

Jaime gazed in horror at the young girl. He knew that Carlon Dayns’ daughter had had her eyes set on him the moment he had stepped foot in that wretched tavern all those months ago, but he had constantly ignored her, put her off, or tried to direct her attentions to other men closer to her age. Whereas Jaime had gotten on with, liked, and felt protective of Bessie, Joly’s younger sister, Joly had triggered something in Jaime, there was something too obsessive and manipulative in her behaviour. He would never forget the time he was working in the back room, taking stock of mutton and chicken, when Joly walked into the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. When he had looked up he had almost gasped in shock, for the girl had been completely naked, her skin mottled with bruises from patrons who had grabbed at her and had their way with her. She was quite skinny, apart from her ample bosom, which she had been squeezing together with her hands. She had sat on the table in front of him and spread her legs wide. He had stood there looking at her, with a frown on his face, and all he could think of was Myrcella, and her sweet face, and how young she had been, and how young Joly was. Though Joly didn’t have the innocence of Myrcella, _or Brienne_ , she was still young enough to be his daughter, and it horrified him that Carlon allowed his daughter to feel she had to act this way. He had told her that he wasn’t interested in fucking her and that she should go and get some clothes on. It had been the purse of her lips that had set his senses on edge, he knew what was coming, because he had seen it often enough with his sweet sister. He knew, in that moment with Joly, without the right love and care, girls and women, like Joly and Cersei, were abused and treated like shit, until they started to believe that their only power in the world came from their cunts. Jaime had tried to speak to Carlon about Joly’s behaviour, but he had refused to listen, stating that since their mother had died the two girls had to learn to look after themselves. The anger Jaime had felt had been indescribable, what Carlon failed to realise was that he had destroyed his eldest daughter already, and that what he would do to his younger daughter would be ten times worse. Sweet, innocent Bessie, if Joly didn’t corrupt her, one of the men in the tavern surely would, _by raping her_. And Joly was wholly corrupted, she knew the power her cunt and sex had over men, and in that moment in the back room, she had tried to grab his hand and put it on her, and when he had pulled away. She had broken down then, begging him to love her, he had gone and fetched her clothes, and then told her that he would not mention the incident to anyone. Not that that moment had stopped her trying again and again to get him to bed her.

 

Jaime’s head was now really hurting, but he had to try and keep his wits about him if he was to get out of this room, and back to Brienne. “I don’t want you Joly, I have told you again and again, find someone closer to your age, marry them, have a family-“

 

Joly leant forward, and hissed, “that is exactly what I want, to marry you, I could give you a dozen beautiful, healthy, happy babies, better babies than the one that bitch has.”

 

Jaime tried to sit up, wearily eyeing off the knife in Joly’s trembling hand, “why don’t you give me the knife Joly.”

 

Gripping the knife tighter, she drew it to her chest, “no! If I give you the knife, how do I know that you won’t stab me with it?”

 

The blood on the knife was nearly dry, and a piece flaked off, floating to the stone floor, _Brienne’s blood, that is Brienne’s blood, smeared, dried, and now laying on the floor of the throne room, what has she ever done to deserve anything like this_. Jaime felt nauseous, all he wanted to do was flee back to Brienne’s room, all he wanted to know was that she was still alive.

 

“I won’t hurt you Joly, you know I won’t,” Jaime said, reaching for the knife. Joly’s eyes flared, just as Cersei’s used to do before she would lean into anger, and she threw the knife across the room. They both watched as it skittered past the throne steps, past two pillars, and slowed near the far wall.

 

“Now neither of us can have it, we can’t hurt each other now, we can love each other,” Joly unlaced her bodice and slid it down, exposing her breasts. “I know you won’t hurt me Jacob, I saw how tender you were with that lady, though she wasn’t much of a lady was she? I know you will be tender with me, better than those men in father’s tavern, they are so rough and mean with me, but you, you Jacob, I know you will truly love me. You can touch my tits if you like, have a squeeze.”

 

Jaime looked around the room, trying to think of what to do, now that Joly didn’t have the knife. He thought he could probably overpower her, perhaps he could just get up and walk out of the room, perhaps he could calm her and convince her to surrender herself to the city guards. First things first he had to stand, and so he eased himself onto his knees and then pivoting, with his left hand on the floor, he managed to get on his feet. The room spun a little, and he shut his eyes to keep his bearings, only to then feel small hands at the ties of his breeches, frantically trying to untie them. Opening his eyes, he glared at Joly, shoving her hands away. He was about to lose his temper, “stop it! Joly, once and for all, I am not interested, I am not who you think I am, my name is Jaime Lannister, you know this, you were there when Bronn revealed my true self, I am not Jacob, I don’t love you, I love Brienne, that lady you… stabbed, you… why did you do that? How did you do that? How did you even get into the chambers? Brienne had locked the door.”

 

Joly tried to look repentant at his feet, though she still failed to cover her breasts, her aim was still to tempt him, to break him down, “your silly bitch only locked the door to her chamber, not the nursery door, careless if you ask me, do you really think she can protect that baby? I saw you both, I saw you suck her tits, I saw you put your hand down her breeches - what kind of lady wears breeches anyway? I saw your cock, was it really hard for her? And you were going to fuck her in front of the baby!”

 

Jaime realised what had happened, he remembered Brienne locking the door to her chamber, he hadn’t even thought about the doors in the chamber next door. Joly must of laid in wait in the nursery, Jaime shuddered at the thought of baby Alys being alone in that room with the girl, what Joly could’ve done to his daughter was unfathomable. What she had done to Brienne was unforgivable. Turning to head towards the side door behind the throne steps, Jaime stumbled, only to feel Joly’s two slender arms embrace him, support him. He wanted to push her away, but he knew if he did he would fall. Joly’s face loomed at him, her gap toothed smile back, and her voice pitched and keened in his ears, “you are not well Jacob, let me take you to some chambers where there is a bed, I know of one that is currently empty.”

 

—

 

The crypts were empty, not a sign of anyone having been there in a very long time. Most of the rubble had been cleared over the past year, but this was where Queen Cersei had died, where Tyrion had thought his brother had died, and there was an eeriness to the chamber that put most people off visiting. Bronn had suggested they try the throne room next, that perhaps Jaime will have gone to the room that had seen his biggest failure and triumph, gone to where he had killed King Aerys, where Cersei had declared herself Queen, where Jaime could hope to purge his sister from his soul.

 

Reaching the big double doors into the throne room, Bronn grabbed Tyrion’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, "hold on a moment, the door is open, let me go in first.”

 

Tyrion swallowed deeply as he watched Bronn step through the door. A second later Bronn poked his head out and said it was all clear. Tyrion stumbled into the room, his eyes darting around, taking in the throne, the spluttering flames in their sconces, moonlight shining in through one of the stained glass windows. Nothing indicated anyone was here, but Tyrion wanted to be thorough, and so he started walking the perimeter. It didn’t take him long to find a small knife caked in blood. He felt sick as he leant down and picked it up, “Bronn!”

 

Bronn walked over, a frown deep on his face, “that doesn’t look good, does it?”

 

Tyrion gave him a withering look for stating the obvious, “keep on looking, there might be… there might-“

 

Bronn scoffed, “there isn’t going to be a body you know, where could a body be hidden in here, other than behind the throne!”

 

Tyrion raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the throne. Sighing, Brown jogged to the throne and walked behind it, “see! No body, no body at… well, no body, but a broken vase that certainly doesn’t belong here.”

 

Bronn popped back out from behind the throne carrying a vase that had been broken in two. An ominous silence filled the room, Tyrion felt frustrated, other than the knife and the vase, there were no other clues as to what had happened. Holding the knife up into the light of a sconce, he saw that it was just like any kitchen knife you would get from anywhere, he dropped his arm back down. A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up.

 

“We’ll find him Tyrion, we’ll find him, I suspect he was here, I suspect he wasn’t alone,” Bronn said quietly, concern in his voice.

 

“It can’t be Cersei, surely,” Tyrion whispered. Bronn took the knife from him and looked at it himself.

 

“I think your sister is still safely dead… if she was alive and wanting to take out her love rival-“ Tyrion grimaced at Bronn “-and your brother, she would’ve used a fancier knife than this ‘ere one, your sister was always about the grandiose, this knife doesn’t make a big enough statement… Has Ser Brienne or Jaime pissed off any kitchen wenches since they’ve been here?”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes, “neither of them have been here long enough to interact with anyone outside of… well, us… I think we need to bring the King’s Guard in on the search, Jaime… he might be injured.”

 

—

 

Jaime groaned as Joly eased him onto the bed, his head was aching so much, and all he could see in his mind was Brienne screaming in pain with blood wetting her shirt. He had to get away from Joly, he had to get back to Brienne. They had only just found each again, and as much as he had held misgivings about coming back into Brienne’s life, he couldn't leave now, _and she can’t leave me… or Alys_. His heart filled with love for the little babe that was his, all his to claim and love and raise. Even when he was younger he had wanted to be a father. There was only one person he had really discussed it with when he was a teenager, his friend, Addam Marbrand. He remembered, they had spoken long about who their pretty wives would be, how they would train their sons, marry their daughters into each others families, _like a pair of daydreaming fair maids with their heads in the clouds_. Jaime wanted his daughter more than anything in the world, she was his chance to be better, to do better. _I will do better by her, better than I ever did for my other children, her mother will let me be the father I want to be, I have to leave this room, I have to-_ He groaned again as he made to get up, only to have small hands press him back into the pillows.

 

“You need to rest Jacob, I’m sorry I hit you on the head, but your so much bigger than me, big and strong… we will get you better tonight and then at dawn we can leave, we can go back to Duskendale, I’m sure father would welcome you back if we tell him we are getting married-“

 

“I am not marrying you!” Jaime interrupted Joly as she nattered away whilst pouring some milk of the poppy into some water.

 

“Oh my love, don’t be silly, I know you, you are such a gentle man, you are so respectful of all the ladies- even big ugly ones like the one you… well… I saw the way that you protected my sister from those dogs in father’s tavern, and, ha, I know I have tried to, well, bed you a few times, but you always turned me away… is it because we weren’t married? You do seem honourable enough…. though you have bedded that ugly woman, obviously, but she must have tricked you somehow… here is a drink for you…” Joly came and sat on the bed next to him, nursing the poppy laced glass of water.

 

Jaime shook his head and tried to make sense of what she was saying, “what? I, of course of respect women, I have, I have seen too many hurt and used by bastards, by… what? I turned you away because I don’t love you or want you or find you attractive- Joly, I respect you too much, as a young lady, to.. to.. Joly, you have to let me go.”

 

Joly bit her lip, as though she was trying not to cry, she swirled the water in the cup, “Jacob, why would you say that? If you respect and care about me so much, why would you say you don’t love me?”

 

Jaime sighed and managed to pull himself up to lean against the headboard of the bed, “I respect you and that is why I do not take you to bed Joly… you have to understand, I… I only feel attraction to women I have strong feelings for, I can only be with a woman I truly, deeply love, and I don’t love you.”

 

Joly let out a subdued sob, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes filling with tears.

 

Jaime saw his chance, “Joly, Joly, I know you haven’t had it easy, especially since your mother died, you need to go back to your sister… perhaps, perhaps I can ask for you to find work in a respectable household, you and your sister, get you both away from the tavern. You can start anew, perhaps meet a young man, closer to your age, who admires and loves you and who will take care of you…”

 

Joly leant forward, sobbing, and laid her head on Jaime’s shoulder. The cup of water she had been holding started spilling, but Jaime managed to grab it and place it on the bedside table. He didn’t know what to do, he still felt too dizzy to leap out of the bed and run from Joly, and yet at the same time he felt for this young girl. This young girl who had not been treated right, she reminded him so much of Cersei, this was who his sister would’ve been if they hadn’t had the comfort and riches that the Lannister name bought them. Jaime felt angry on Joly’s behalf; he thought of Brienne and how she had overcome the adversity she had, but she did because she had a father and friends who supported her and loved her and never forced her to do anything she wouldn’t want to do. He thought about his sweet Myrcella and how lucky she had been to meet a young man who did respect her, who appeared to love her, and who Jaime would’ve supported being her husband. He thought of Sansa Stark and how she had been flung around like a plaything by the most powerful men in the realm, firstly being betrothed to, and abused by, Joffrey, then being wed to Tyrion, the only man, outside of her family to have treated her with gentleness and respect, to Littlefinger who manipulated her, to the Bolton bastard who... _I will make sure that Alys is given choices in life, she is her own person and she shall marry for love_ …

 

“Jacob?”

 

“Yes?” Jaime replied offhandedly, watching as Joly straightened herself to look him in the eye.

 

“Do you love that ugly lady?”

 

Jaime huffed a laugh, “yes, very much… and I am very worried about her, you… you hurt her and I really want to know that she is okay.”

 

Joly ignored his concerns, “why do you love her?”

 

“Because she kind, and gentle, and honourable, she loves with all her heart, she forgives, she sees people, really sees them and accepts them for who they are, she… she would stand up for you you know, she takes defending the innocent seriously. Can I go and see her, can you help me get back to her chambers?”

 

Joly ignored his question, and desperately asked, “you once said that you loved innocence… I’m innocent Jacob, I am, I’m so young still, so why can’t you love me?”

 

Jaime was running out of ways to tell her no, he was also starting to feel sick, with fear for Brienne, and he suspected from his head injury. He gaped at her and shook his head. Joly reached up and cupped his face, smiling tentatively at him. Jaime blinked to clear his sight, and frowned at the look in her eye. The next moment happened so quickly it took Jaime’s mind a moment to catch up. Joly suddenly leapt at him, pressing her lips to his, he could feel her tongue begging for entrance, at the same time as the chamber door flung open, making Joly jump out of her skin and off the bed. Joly started screaming, yelling that _Jacob_ had been taking advantage of her, Bronn let out a stream of expletives as he and one of the King’s Guards made their way to Joly and securely held her arms, whilst Tyrion had rushed to his brother.

 

“Jaime, Jaime, are you alright?”

 

Jaime nodded, even as he moaned, “my head hurts like the blazes, she hit me with something, but I don’t care about me, Brienne, is Brienne okay?”

 

Tyrion shook his head, “I don’t know brother, I have spent all this time looking for you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. ... Joly was a hard character to write. I do not take what she would've been through lightly, and if she was living today I would hope that she had gotten the help that she needs. I hope that I have dealt with the situation as sensitively as possible, and I really don't want Joly to be defined by her experience with Jaime and other men. It's a tough one, and something that has sat uncomfortably with me for a few days. I have made multiple changes to the character and situations, but ultimately had to stop and just let this sit as is, otherwise it would never be published. In the sequel to this story I hope to see Joly get the opportunity to thrive and find herself a safer situation in life, and perhaps Jaime, and especially Brienne, will have a hand in that... let me know what you think....


End file.
